


Yura

by WildFlora



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Best Friends, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fame, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia does not exist here, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Introspection, Long-Distance Relationship, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Men Crying, Misunderstandings, Pining, Post-Canon, Protective Otabek Altin, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Slice of Life, Smut, Social Anxiety, Unreliable Narrator, Yuri Plisetsky Swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 155,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildFlora/pseuds/WildFlora
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is 21.For the past 3 years Yuri Plisetsky has dominated world figure skating. He’s the pride of Russia. Muse of high-fashion. Has multimillion dollar sponsorship deals. Screaming fans. Bed offers for days.Alsoa pathetic loser who locks himself in bathrooms when attending stuffy social events.Also Alsoa pathetic loser who looks at old messages on his phone that are from someone he never intends to respond to.Yuri Plisetsky is slowly drowning and feels that he’s losing himself more and more. So why does he keep looking for answers in an old forgotten message thread he once had with Otabek Altin? Especially when he knows the chest pains that come following it?Set post-canon.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 287
Kudos: 288





	1. Part I: 1. Cold Marble Confessionals

**=======**

**Late September (Yuri 21yrs)  
St. Petersburg**

...  


The door slams after him. 

_Shit._

Yuri’s eyes snap shut. _That_ \- was louder than he meant it to be. He waits a few seconds, listening for any sign of someone coming to investigate.  
_Nothing_  
He flicks the lock.  
And breathes. 

The chattering outside has muffled to a soft white noise thanks to the wall now separating him. It’s not perfect. Perfect would be without any incessant chatter at all, but this was better.  
_Much_ better

Another bathroom glinting back at him. Familiar white marble, either too-dim lighting or too bright, and perfectly set toiletries that smell like the first floor of a department store.

A random bathroom with a lock- all of them like a fucking second home.

He walks over to the sink, pulling at his tie to loosen it, a tired frown on his face as he stares at nothing.

He doesn’t want to be here. He never wants to be here.  
This is the part he hates. This is the part he sucks at.  
The one that reminds him most strongly of what he’s not. 

He grips into the counter and leans forward, a loose strand of hair falling in front of his face, his breath blowing it up and away with every exhale. When he catches himself in the mirror he glares, instantly looking back down. 

None of this has anything to do with the sport. The schmoozing. Last he checked being able to make Baldy McRich face laugh had nothing to do with landing a fucking quad-flip perfectly. Which he can. Which he did. What does a 40 year ignorant as hell pompous name-dropping nobody talking about recently visited vacation spots have anything to do with figure skating?  
It’s a waste of his time.  
It’s fake  
They’re all fake 

Yuri hates sucking at anything. Especially things that don’t even make any god damned sense. 

I mean. He can do it. He does it.  
But it’s far from natural, far from easy.  
Victor Nikiforav, he is not. And it’s written plainly on everyone’s face.  
Even after all the media coaching through the years. Hours upon tedious hours where Yuri could feel his IQ dropping point by point, dumber at the end than when he came in. Not once has he ever felt human at these events. 

A lot of things have pushed him to be as great as he is.  
But knowing how much he sucked at this part made the need to bury it take a top place amongst his motivations.

Of course he had to be great.  
Greater than Nikiforav.  
Because Victor could do this. Charm people to him. Make them laugh. Happily oblige strangers. Embrace them. Make anyone feel like they were a near and dear friend.

Victor was a prodigy, a legend, and performed his social responsibilities effortlessly- _The way people expected a star athlete to._

Yuri Plisetsky was a prodigy, a legend, and when expected to perform his social responsibilities could instead be found locked in a bathroom staring at a wall.

At this point, with Yuri being 21, his team was well aware of this habit. Often, maybe 15-20 minutes later, there would be a knock. No matter where Yuri had locked himself, they would find him. Victor wasn’t allowed, of course, they quickly learned how explosively ineffective that was. Usually it was Yakov, grunting his name out. Ordering him to come out with an emotionless reminder of Yuri’s responsibilities to this profession.

On really bad days it’d be Yuuri. Not that Yuuri was a beacon of emotional articulation, he just knew when to shut the fuck up. Also the two of them did seem to share... something. A similarly broken something in both of them that they carried silently and recognized in the other. 

Yuri stares expressionless at the sink.

It’s hard to know when it all changed.  
When he was younger it didn’t matter as much. There was a lot more room for him to be... human, imperfect. The awareness of his age was so closely tied to his accomplishments, it was like there was a built-in forgiveness at the forefront of everyone’s mind. His scowling and overreactive nature was choked to immaturity and the confidence he had in unabashedly expressing himself was celebrated. 

Then Victor retired. And as one does at 16, Yuri started growing. Fast.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just skating he had to think about.  
It wasn’t just skating he was being brought in for meetings for and making decisions in.  
The pressures multiplied.  
Like most teenagers, the once empty spaces in his brain were rapidly filling up with new feelings and newly discovered self-awarenesses. Some good, but mostly bad. Most of the time it felt like he was drowning in thick bottomless mud. And because of his profession, Yuri’s brain was also trying to find room for the ever growing expectations that came with being a star athlete. Carrying his country. Being an idol. Maintaining sponsorships. Financial security and growth that he could barely wrap his mind around. Having people work for him. Their livelihoods dependent on him.

None of this was particularly unique to him. Nearly all of his peers faced similar challenges. 

Yuri’s was just more.  
Because he won.

A lot.

Over 

and over

and over again

And for whatever reason, the amount of interest in him grew unprecedentedly. From everywhere.  
People couldn’t tear their eyes away  
He was Victor Nikiforav but he wasn’t.

Victor Nikiforav was figure skating. Epitomized everyone’s ideal. He was made in a lab, Yuri was sure of it. 

Yuri had all of the same skills trained in him that Victor had.  
But there was something different about Yuri. 

To call it angst would be lazy.

There was a danger in Yuri’s skating, something sharp and pointed.  


Different from Victor’s.  
Because despite Victor’s determination to surprise audiences with every skate, there was a longstanding trust that had grown between him and them. As if Victor was opening his arms to everyone watching, telling them to sit back, relax, and let him take the lead.

That was not Yuri.

Yuri didn’t give a shit about the audience.  


Well  
Kind of

He likes it when the audience goes quiet. 

Likes it when they’re sweating in their seats, eyes glued, practically panting.

He also likes the sound they make whenever his final score is revealed. That roaring. It’s like a big glorious orgasm bellowing through the arena.

So no. It’s not that he doesn’t care about them at all. He just doesn’t care about them the way Victor does. 

And even with his lack of doting, Yuri is very good at predicting them. Too good. Most evident of this is through social media. His social media presence is notorious. It’s a skill he feels a certain amount of shame for but also can’t turn away from. There’s a craft to it he genuinely enjoys. His sharp eye for visuals and ability to draw out specific predetermined reactions from people make his posts particularly effective.  
Even without the multi-million sponsorship deals, if he were to majorly fuck himself via some injury, his social media success could carry him easily.  
Not that he’d want that.

_Jesus._

But. It’s something else that sets him apart.

It’s also something he likes reminding himself of when he’s feeling twitchy and inadequate at uppity events like these.  
He may stand all weird and tense like there’s a rod up his ass, might feel uncomfortable in his own voice, feel like he’s playing a shit part he never asked for, but no one can deny the number under his profile image. How convincingly he can fake a laugh means nothing to that number.  


And obviously, there’s his own dominance in the sport. Absolutely no one can deny him that.

He turns a faucet knob and watches the water stream out from the spout. He doesn’t even put his hands under. He just watches it. 

It’s incredibly fucking wasteful. 

He should shut it off. 

_Asshole._

He does. 

Swiveling his body he moves a few inches down and hops up onto the counter. Legs under him, swinging lightly. He loosens his tie even more.

There’s a knock.

“Yuri?” Yakov’s low voice muffled by the door echoes through. 

Yuri sighs, “Yeah.” 

“You’re expected in 10.”

“Yeah.” He rubs at his temple, squeezing his eyes shut, “Got it.”

“Fix your tie before you come out.”

Yuri looks down at it, remembering all the times he’d forgotten. “Right.” All those conservative eyes lingering disappointedly at his collar. As if the offensiveness of his tie went anywhere beyond it’s exorbitant price. 

_Shame really._  
He actually prefers the look of a loose tie. Entirely undone is even better. 

He scoots down the counter so he can rest his back against the mirror, bringing his knees all the way up and titling his head back.

Yakov doesn’t say anything else. Probably cause he’s already walked off. 

_10 minutes._

Yuri pulls his phone out, and does what anyone does, he scrolls.

And scrolls.

Mindlessly scrolls. 

Unhinging his jaw.

Scrolling.

Photos flying by. 

Hashtags blurring.

Scrolling. 

He stops.

A low, nearly indecipherable sound escapes him.

He doesn’t stop often. He especially doesn’t stop for unremarkable photo-taking.  
But he stops here. Despite himself.

Otabek Altin stands with someone in front of a marquee, his name proudly listed. His comment mentions a local charity event he’s participating in.

A sharp pressure builds inside Yuri’s forehead, like all the air he’s pulling in is being sucked into the space above the corner of his eyes. 

Yuri hates most photos of people staring and smiling directly into a camera, like weird cultists. This is no different. But he lingers longer on the next one.  
The next one has Otabek staring back at the marquee, hands in his pockets, his face in profile, his eyes squinting from the sun, small satisfied smile.

It’s _fucking annoying_. 

All of it.  
Most annoying is the inhumanly sharp line that is Otabek Altin’s jawline. Annnoying because if it’s within sight, Yuri’s eyes have an uncontrollable habit of zeroing in and locking on until... they’ve gotten whatever it is they needed in the first place.

It’s like visual quicksand. And if he can’t pull himself out fast enough- well- 

_It’s stupid._

And pointless.

_Masochistic, really._

He swipes up but just ends up stuffing his phone angrily back into his pocket anyway.

If he were to open up his Messages there’s a thread with Otabek dating back years that Yuri hasn’t actually responded to in 6 months. Prior to that, 7 months. It’s been like that for awhile now. Yuri always giving brief, one word answers, maybe a quick ‘Congratulations’. 

No matter what, Otabek always responds with a full sentence or two.  
He used to send Yuri photos. Photos of his bike. Animals he’d befriended on road trips. Cats he’d met.  
Now their message thread stays stale and forgotten.

When Yuri is feeling particularly self-hating he’ll open up the thread and scroll to a random spot in time, just to read. Letting the pressure in his forehead fill down to his chest and fill him with... things. Things that hurt. 

And as if that wasn’t pathetic enough, Yuri even has a note on his phone filled with drafted responses, responses he never intended to send in the first place. 

Yuri Plisetsky, gold winning figure skating champion, the pride of Russia, muse of high fashion, multimillion dollar sponsorship deals, screaming fans, bed offers for days, also a pathetic loser who looks at old messages on his phone with someone who will never-

_Fuck._

He pushes himself off the counter and stands, turning back to the mirror. 

That pain in his chest is back. He’ll have to stuff it in some cranny until it decides to spill out again. 

He hates it.

He looks in the mirror and smooths his shirt, then slides his hands down to the back of his thighs, feeling for any wet spots he might have soaked up from the counter. A part of him hoping he finds one. He’d love to see those old eyes lingering on a highly suspect wet spot sitting at the base of his asshole or inside his thigh. 

Unfortunately, for everyone, he’s dry. 

Yakov’s words ring through his ears, so he tightens his tie and lays it flat.  
The sleeves though- those are gonna stay rolled up.  
His hair could use some adjusting, the tight bun he had has gotten more and more loose, but he’s fresh out of shits to give so he rolls his eyes and clears his throat, going to unlock the door.  
He pulls it open, stuffing a hand in his pocket and stepping back out to face the mindless mingling.

Spine tense.

Inside his pocket he fingers the smooth surface of his phone- the photo of Otabek, the outline of his face staring back against a blue sky flashing in his mind. 

_Fucking pathetic, Plisetsky...._

**=====**

Yakov grunts agreeably to the statements being made by this balding pink faced man standing in front of them. The man keeps glancing over at Yuri, checking in, smiling excitedly at his own words. Every time he glances, Yuri wordlessly responds by raising his eyebrows and nodding.

Yuri sucks at his teeth feeling some sort of food string of... _what... what is that... Mango? Did he have mango earlier?_

_He did. He did have mango._

_It was on that confusing sandwich. Why do rich weirdos like mixing shit that shouldn’t be mixed all the god damned time?_

_Mango on a sandwich..._

_Stupid._

“Yuri.”

“Yeah?” Yuri blinks and looks to Yakov. The small faced man is gone. _Oh,_ bummer

Yakov sighs, “You’re not being present, Yuri,” he says it tiredly, his gaze fixed on something at the other side of the room.  
Yuri follows where Yakov’s eyes are locked and is met with the forever unwelcome sight of Victor Nikiforav, standing amongst a ring of people, animatedly recounting some story. Everyone looking on dazzled, enraptured, like they’re all imagining his ass sitting on their faces so they can frantically kiss it. Yuuri is next to him, smiling wide, cheeks pink, eyes adoring.

A scowl takes over Yuri’s face while he angrily sucks harder at the food stuck between his teeth. 

An older woman that Yuri recognizes from countless other events taps Yakov on the shoulder. She greets Yuri with a far-too familiar squeeze at his elbow, smiling knowingly, taking him in. Yuri hears her complimenting him, her eyes drinking up and admiring his face, his body, the way only old horny rich people can get away with. She claims envy over some feature.

Yuri smiles graciously, a slight bow with his head. 

_You fucking wish_

She waves to someone behind them, beckoning them over. 

It’s her grandson. 

She says he’s a big fan.

Yuri smiles. _Actually_ smiles and looks back to see a shy kid, maybe 15, 16, sitting anxious at an empty table. After several calls, the kid drags himself over, red cheeks under shaggy hair.

 _Fucking finally._ Yuri feels a shot of confidence run through him and he tips his drink back. _This_ he can handle. 

**Kids:** Easy. Kids are small excitable idiots.  
**Teenagers:** Even easier. Teenagers are all just impressionable insecure shits.  
**20s:** Easiest. That’s when Yuri can actually dip into his own sexual appetite and churn them till they foam at the mouth. Sometimes, but very rarely he’d even follow through.  
**Everyone Else:** Resentful, in-denial, passive-aggressive hypocrites. 

Yuri’s been told he has a bad habit of generalizing

The kid’s grandmother has her arm wrapped around his shoulders and is speaking for him like the old narcissist she most certainly is, announcing his longstanding fan status to the celebrity skater standing in front of him.

Yuri smiles at him, keeping his hand in his pocket, champagne glass loose in his other. “Hey.”

The kid tightens his lips, clearly wishing he wasn’t blushing as much as he was. “Hey.”

Before the grandmother can start speaking for him again, Yuri continues, “You skate?”

He shakes his head. “Just watch.”

“Hm. You ever go in person?”

“Yeah.”

“Favorite event?”

“The European Championships in Helsinki.” 

_There it is._  
Behind the deep crimson blush now blooms a tinge of excitement. 

“Mm.” Yuri nods and flashes him a wider smile. “You hear that Yakov? _Helsinki_ \- It’s his _favorite._ ” Yakov doesn’t react. Yuri continues, “Glad you liked it. _Some_ didn’t.”

That was 2 years ago.  


Yuri had been fuming and pacing before that particular performance. All due to the press event prior when some dumbass referred to Victor as a father figure to him and asked if Yuri was feeling nervous not having him there. Victor hardly ever missed a competition, but for this competition he’d been called away with Yuuri over family matters in Hasetsu.

The idea that Yuri would be nervous because Victor wasn’t there...

The idea that Victor was a father figure...

_Just fuck right the fuck off._

Yuri ended up swapping all his jumps, doing the mental math required to make sure the points all added up the same in the end. But it meant some of his lead ups needed to change also.

He hadn’t told anyone.  
He just did it.

A lot of his team were furious. 

It was stupid. 

In fact, he nearly fell at one of the transitions. No one could tell. But Yuri could. Victor could too in the replays. His core shook like it hadn’t in years. It was so fucking stupid. So monumentally irresponsible to do that drastic of a change without even running through it. It was all of it— cocky, arrogant, destructive, everything career ruining. 

And yet still, no lessons were learned.  
Not one.

Because the program itself was electric. Like a bolt of lightening had struck. The changes caused a ripple of nerves to rush through the stands. 

That night Yuri cut through the ice like he wanted it to bleed. 

The audience was on their knees.

Absolutely no one could do something like that. 

No one. 

Except him. 

Afterward, Yakov looked like he was going to erupt like a very old very large volcano.

And all through the Kiss and Cry Yuri smirked, his face glinting satisfaction at the final score. He didn’t get back to his hotel room until the next morning where he was promptly escorted for his flight home.

Yuri gives the same smirk he had at the Kiss and Cry to the teenager in front of him, “I enjoyed that performance very much. Pre-made plans can be such a drag. Sometimes I think the best thing we can do for ourselves is to light every expectation on fire and push them all off a very tall building. Yes?”

The old woman’s face hardens, her grip around her grandson’s shoulders tight. 

Yakov looks tired and takes a very large swig of his champagne. 

But the kid is grinning hard. His eyes wide like a superhero just dropped in and gave him a salute. “Yeah.”


	2. Part I: 2. Interruptions

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
2 months until Grand Prix**

...  


Yuuri has a hand under his chin, deep in thought.

“Jesus. _Come on_. Just tell me.” Yuri pants, leaning over his legs, sweat soaking at the back of his shirt. He’s standing directly in front of the large prehistoric fan that hasn’t been replaced since this 4 trillion old dance studio was built.  
Man-made wind whips aggressively at his shirt and he shakes his head side to side trying to work out the kink in his neck.

Yuuri and him have been tidying up choreography for the past 2 and a half hours. There’s a part near the middle of his Free Skate program that feels out of place and neither of them can figure out why or how to fix it. Skate Canada is two weeks away.

“I _think_ —“ Yuuri stands up and stops next to him, looking in the mirror. He studies both of them closely, “Show me your arms before the layback spin.”  
Yuri stands tall and holds them exactly as he does when he performs.  
Yuuri holds the same stance next to him, staring at their outlines in the mirror. 

“Half speed-“  
Yuri moves slowly, him and Yuuri matching their speeds perfectly as they work through the steps.  
“Stop.”

“You find it?”

Yuuri falls out of stance and circles Yuri like he just saw something. “Again. Half speed.”

Yuri goes back to the position before the layback and repeats the movements. 

“Stop.” Yuuri points a finger at the underside of Yuri’s right arm. “It’s _there_.” Katsuki smiles, relieved, like he just rescued a cat from a tree. He goes back to standing next to Yuri, copying the movements. “You’re rotating it. You’re doing this-“ He demonstrates in the mirror, “Instead of _this_ ,” he does the move without the rotation.

Yuri watches with knitted brow.

“It makes it look like you’re increasing speed. Like you’re ramping up for something that never happens. It goes against the pacing of the music, the pacing of the program, all of it.” Yuuri demonstrates again, doing the full sequence both with and without the rotation Yuri was putting in his arms. 

It was _so_ slight.

Yuri gets back into position, staring hard into the mirror as he moves through, all his focus on his arms and keeping them from rotating. It’s not smooth yet, he’s too mindful of it. But he sees it. It’s a noticeable improvement. 

He does it again.

And again.

And again. 

He falls out entirely and nods, looking back at Yuuri. 

They work well together. It’s the healthiest coaching relationship Yuri’s ever had. They lean towards the same things. And because they both excelled in elements they themselves wished they were better in, there was a built-in foundation of respect that encouraged feedback.  
When Yuuri started having a heavier hand in choreographing Yuri’s programs, Yuri’s overall performances improved dramatically. There was a second nature to them. Connecting to his programs no longer required hours long build up or manufactured angst. All he had to do was step into them.

“You’re meeting with Victor at 2?” Yuuri asks looking at his phone.

“Yeah.”

“You should take a break then, grab something to eat before heading over.”

Yuri nods before tipping his water bottle back and reaching down to put on his shoes. “Oh, Yuuko texted last night.”

Yuuri lights up, “Oh yeah?”, he opens up his bag packing up his work notebook.

“Yeah. I guess she saw the new ad. She was like ‘ _Oh my god! I need 10 bottles!_ ’” Yuri does an exaggerated exasperated impression.

They both laugh. 

Yuuri wraps a scarf around his neck, “That reminds me, the other night Minako took over our video call with my parents and said- _ah_ \- I think it was- ‘ _Yuri Plisetsky showed up in 2 different commercials in the past 5 minutes, will you tell him to give it a rest?_’” 

Yuri shakes his head, serious but also half-kidding. “Tell her absolutely not. Not until I’m in _every_ commercial.”

Yuuri smiles wide, “It might happen, Yuri. Between you and Otabek, no one can escape figure skating these days.”

Yuri drops his glove in the middle of pulling it on. Knots forming at his temple as he picks it back up.

_Right._

It was _interesting._

Otabek was surprisingly but not that surprisingly successful in his endorsement deals. Surprising because he almost always placed second when competing against Yuri, and while not unheard of, a professional figure skater who didn’t consistently place first being so widely sought after as a brand rep was rare. But it also wasn’t all that surprising because  
**1.** There isn’t a single demographic Otabek Altin doesn’t appeal to  
And **2.** Otabek Altin’s genetics aren’t exactly subtle  
Yuri’s chest, dick, and eyes can attest

Otabek was made to be photographed in black and white. Sweat dripping down his face. Eyes focused under straight dark brows. Some sort of 3 word inspirational slogan blaring from the corner. Nike jumped to have his narrative tied to their brand. They fought hard when competing labels were secretly bidding and when Nike ultimately won, they championed his face proudly.

Ever since then, whenever Yuri sees a billboard with Otabek on it he takes a photo.  
He used to send edited versions to him. Maybe replacing the Nike quote with something dumb. Dropping a top hat on him or some googly eyes. Yuri’s personal favorite he ever did was when he mirrored Otabek’s head and pasted it in, so it looked like two Otabek’s staring all sweaty and angry at each other. The finishing touch was replacing the slogan with “Do. _Yourself._ ”

Now when Yuri sees ads, he’ll still take photos. But he leaves them untouched and unsent. Sometimes browsing to them later.

Quickly tugging his glove back on, Yuri frowns, and swings his bag over. 

Yuuri smiles, nodding towards the door, “Ready?”

...  


**=======**

**Kelowna, British Colombia (Skate Canada, Second Night)  
40 Days Until Grand Prix**

...  


**“Yuri!”**

_Oh-_

Yuri stops in his tracks.  
The bodies around copying him.  


_That voice._  
He knows that voice 

Silently, his eyes find Yuuri’s with a familiar look of, _“Give me minute I need to **x**.”_  
**x** meaning any of the following: pee, shit, curse into an empty room, get water, take a phone call, buy a thing I just saw, kick something, take some time and chill with this cat, etc. etc. etc.

Yuuri nods, ready to assure anyone he needs to.

Yuri turns.  
When he looks back over at the mouth of the hallway he’s greeted with the lone figure of Otabek Altin.

 **Otabek Altin** \- last year’s World’s Champion silver medalist, Kazakhstan’s shining jewel, official Nike rep, a beloved star athlete whose only negative press had been an article from last year that divulged some unfavorable banking strategies made by several distant relatives which unfortunately had his father’s name loosely attached for reasons that had little more to do than familial legality. It was far-reaching bullshit that was rightfully shrugged off as quickly as it came out.

It did teach one valuable lesson though: that despite the rebellious nature in how Otabek’s talent was built and executed, Otabek Altin was spotless.

 _A saint._  
Something no one has ever referred to Yuri as, he’s sure of it.

And right now, Otabek has just interrupted Yuri being taken to his next interview, his team escorting him, prepping him. _Always_ prepping him.  
They’ve all gone quiet now, though... probably out of shock. This isn’t normal. Unless it’s press or fans, no one _consciously_ goes looking to interrupt Yuri Plisetsky.

Except this one.

Yuri smiles.  
_Fuck_.  
It’s good to see him. Even better to hear his own name called out in Otabek’s voice. Otabek didn’t even compete today, he must’ve been a simple spectator.

“ _Otabek_ ,” Yuri says it using a tone he doesn’t normally have outside four protected walls. It’s comfortable, maybe a little playful, “Been awhile.”  


_Sure_ , mustering up a text to the guy in front of him is literally physically impossible, but this was different. _This_ was Otabek reaching out to him. In person. His body in front of him. His voice. His face.

Following his instinct, Yuri stuffs his hands into his pockets, and rocks back on his heels, surveying him, cocking his head to the side, “Can’t you see how busy I am, Otabek?”  
He lets the pull take over, down to his feet. He walks, pushing past his team ignoring the eyes staring into his back.

No one stops him.  
It’s so rare for Yuri to actively seek out friendly conversation like this. They’re all probably just grateful he can do it at all.

Continuing to cross over, eyes forward, Yuri feels the pumping in his chest beat harder with every step. The only way to drown it out is by the overconfidence in his own voice, “I don’t have time to say ‘Hello’ to you, Otabek. What, you think you can just rudely interrupt me and keep me from going to this _incredibly_ important interview I’m scheduled to be at? Do you have any idea how disrespectful it would be for me to stand here _carelessly_ chatting with you?” Yuri stops in front of him, “How could you seriously think that would _ever_ work? ” Yuri stays planted, his lips tugging up into a knowing smirk. 

_Sure._  
This sort of ease is nowhere to be found when he’s looking at his phone. Maybe it was different here because he could actually see Otabek’s reaction in front of him. Read it. Play with it. Try to hold onto any semblance of power he could.

Otabek matches him, the corners of his perfect mouth titling up.  
“I know how busy you are, Yuri. I only wanted to congratulate you.“ And with a display of humble sportsmanship Otabek gives a polite bow of his head, 

A sharp pain in Yuri’s chest. He swallows, keeping it from reaching his face.

He needs to stay vigilant.  
Especially with the threat that is Otabek’s jawline staring back at him. The very real, very possible humiliation of Yuri’s eyes lowering and settling creepily on it as it glints back- _taunting him_ \- slicing into him-

 _It’s-_  
_Fucking difficult._

He hasn’t been this close to it since their last press conference months ago. But they’d been side by side there, looking out, which made it easier to keep his eyes away.

Not like this.

Clearing his throat, Yuri ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I know I owe you a text. Or two. Or three.” Yuri counts them above his head. 

Otabek brushes it off, going to say something but Yuri interrupts him before he can  
“No, really-it’s shitty. It is. I know it is. I should’ve replied. I _should_ reply” Yuri nods, looking at the ground, agreeing with himself that he’s an asshole.

 _He should._  
There’s no reason he shouldn’t.  
Except for... _yeah_.

Otabek’s eyes dart over to the bodies grouped together staring shamelessly back at them. Waiting.  
“Mm, if you ever need a ride,” Otabek motions his head ever so slightly to the anxious eyes watching, “know you can always reach out.”

After multiple bitchfests and rescue requests it’d be hard for Otabek to forget how much Yuri hates this part of his profession.  
Shit happened so fast when he was younger after Victor retired. Yuri remembers the feeling- it was so overwhelming, it would come over him, the feeling like the space between his ribs was clogging and building up to his throat, choking out all the air. If it happened at events they were both attending, Yuri would hide away, pull out his phone and call Otabek-  
_“Get me out.”_

Yuri meets his gaze again, the memories of the past clouded behind his own eyes. The memory of Otabek reaching him, always finding him somehow, wordlessly handing him a helmet and driving them far away. Somewhere Yuri could breathe. Somewhere he didn’t have to talk. And if he did talk he’d talk about nothing. Talk about bullshit. Curse. Throw rocks and kick trees.

There was a time it was a lifeline. Something he looked forward to. Something that got him through all of this while also providing moments he genuinely enjoyed.  


Until it changed.  
Silent but undeniable.  
_Shit_. Yuri really hates thinking about this. He hates that looking at Otabek now is making him have to.  


But at some point, Otabek went from being a personal idol to something else. Something that made the space between Yuri legs heavy. Something that made his body steam and churn below the surface. Something that made the inside of his skin go wet and humid.  
Like he was seeing things he’d never seen before-  
The sharp lines in Otabek’s face.  
The strength in his eyes.  
The focused shadow of his brows.  
The way his cheek dipped.  
The thick darkness of his hair.  
The sweetness of his eyelashes haloing under his lids.  
His body. 

_Fuck._

The day Yuri realized Otabek had a body was the day Yuri’s dick surrendered itself to a life of disappointment.  
Because no one was Otabek.  
And it’s not like Yuri hasn’t looked. And acted on. And woken up in disappointment after disappointment.

No one was ever Otabek.

Yuri tried ignoring it. Feign ignorance. Called himself a horny idiot and distracted himself.  
But he noticed he’d started taunting Otabek more. Almost aggressively.  
Like he was lashing out for something. 

Then it got so bad, he would regularly get close to crossing a cruel moral line. And instantly Yuri would recognize his own fucked assholishness— so he’d go silent.  
At first the silence went on for an hour or two. Then sometimes days. Then weeks. Then months.  
He had to.  
Because if he kept talking, kept taunting, it would only be a matter of time before Otabek figured it out or Yuri hurt him for something he had no right to hurt him for. Yuri knew he needed to cut himself off before he lost all semblance of the person in front of him and what they used to have. Before Yuri hated himself entirely.  
There was no point. No real path Yuri could see that wasn’t disaster.

Yuri knew. Even when he was a dumbass teenager he knew. Otabek was a saint. Clean. Successful. Adored.  
Next to Otabek, Yuri’s always been sin. Cocky. Reactive. Angry. A garbage can fire dressed in a designer suit.

_So_ \- Of course Otabek never made a move.  
_Of course_ Otabek never wanted him. 

And if Otabek _had_ ever wanted him the way Yuri wanted him, it would have happened ages ago. Otabek would have done something.  
_Anything._  
But he didn’t.

_Why would he?_

Yuri feels it. Even just standing here the thoughts creep up like a shadow in his brain. Somehow being with Otabek causes more downward spiraling than all the social events, press events, and self-censoring combined. _More than the self-erasing._.

Mentally, Yuri tries to soothe the tension in his neck, “Nike footing the bill for your motorcycle rental, now? I expect it to be plated gold with those corporate checks they’re signing you,” when all else fails, taunt, especially regarding their competing brand rep.

“Mm. They foot the bill. As long as my helmet shows the swoop-“

They match grins.

It’s not quite comfortable. Not in the hallway with faces looking on at them. Not after so many months of silence and years of uncharacteristically short answers without any explanation.  
But despite the shadow reminding him why he doesn’t open this channel up, this is still the most comfortable Yuri’s felt in awhile. It scares him.  
It causes a weird effect in his chest, like a hand loosening it’s grip, bringing relief and then immediately tightening again. Over and over.  
He wants to stay. He also wants to run.  
_He wants to-_

“Yuri.” It’s Yakov’s voice. Yuri doesn’t turn.

Otabek nods towards who Yuri assumes is Yakov, with an assurance that he’ll let Yuri go. It’s a look Otabek and Yakov have exchanged before when it came to him. Yuri frowns.  
“Remarkable program, as always Yuri. Congratulations again.” Otabek clearly meant for it be the closing statement to the conversation because he bows his head and starts to step back.

But Yuri isn’t ready.  
He blinks, frantically trying to find what it is he feels the need to say, then letting the words fall out of him before he has a chance to edit them to something cleaner, “I’ll be watching yours.” Yuri furrows his brows, “You’re the only one I watch. There’s no one else I’m ever competing against. Only you.” Yuri consciously lets a spark ignite in his eyes, “So make it good.”

It’s messy... but it’s also true. It’s sincere. He actually managed to say something sincere. He even feels better having the words leave him- They come from a very low part of his gut.

If Yuri wasn’t an insufferable competitive monster, Otabek would easily be regarded as the worlds greatest current skater.  
So yes, since Yuri can’t have anything else, the least Otabek can do is give Yuri a program that Yuri has to fight to come out on top for.

He doesn’t wait for Otabek’s reaction.

He can’t.

Instead, he gives a quick nod more to himself than Otabek and walks back. Back to his entourage and obligations.

Otabek behind him.  
_Maybe_ , Yuri thinks, _looking on_.

As the end of the hallway draws nearer, bodies shuffling along his side, Yuri imagines himself sending the signal for his eyes to harden until a hard glaze forms over them, turning themselves into perfectly calm deep green pools.

_Not a ripple in sight._


	3. Part I: 3. We’ve Done This Before

**=======**

**Nagoya, Japan  
Grand Prix Banquet Night **

...  


It’s been 24 days since Otabek stopped him in the hallway.

Since then,  
Yuri qualified for the Grand Prix  
won the Grand Prix  
and he did it all while doing another Grade A job crumpling up that encounter with Otabek and stuffing it somewhere in the very back of his mind.  
He’s a professional after all  
He’s had a lot of practice.  
Except this time he fucks up.

It was uncontrollable anger mixed with panic that dragged Yuri out to the back alley he’s found himself in. Bad enough he walked out just now. The aftermath is already going to be a nightmare.  
He’d already fucked up yet he still found a way to fuck up more. After all this time, out of nowhere, sweating angry in a suit against a dirtied brick wall, Yuri decides this is the moment he should really go _all out_.  
So the worst part of his head suggests he go ahead then- go on and self destruct- out of fucking nowhere, out of years of silence and one word answers, go ahead and call the silver Grand Prix medalist who breaks Yuri’s already broken, very stupid, cold, barely-there heart simply by existing.  
And he does. Without even thinking, Yuri pulls his phone out and hits the call button under Otabek’s contact card.

It’s 2 hours before the Banquet.

_Why-_

It barely rings once  
Yuri doesn’t wait for a hello.  
“Yeah. Hey. Ah- if I say ‘get me out’ is that invite still open?” He gives the lamest huff of a laugh, sweat forming at his brow, throat gone dry.

“Where are you?” Otabek’s voice stays pointed. Focused. _Always focused_. 

“Uh- I’m in the back of the kitchens? Somewhere. I don’t actually fucking know. It’s the hotel though. Smells like shit.” 

“Stay there.”

CALL ENDED flashes on his screen. Yuri stares shocked.

_Shit_

_Oh no_  
_What the fuck_  
_What was he thinking?_

This isn’t... they’re not supposed to do this...

He pushes his back against the wall and slides down.  
Yuri hadn’t walked out of an interview in a long time. Was beginning to think that maybe he was growing up after all- 

And then he goes and does this?-  
_Fuck._  
This wasn’t going to be good. This was going to hurt. Spending time with Otabek was going to hurt. Every time Yuri’s faced with the reality of just how much Otabek doesn’t see him the same way Yuri sees him, it hurts like a blade to the fucking chest.  
And Yuri knows himself enough to know he’s just going to end up saying something because of it... something bad, cruel, _something_. Something he’ll never be able to take back-  
But Otabek’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in his head-  
That familiar offer of sanctuary...

He groans into his hands.  
After several long minutes picturing himself punching his own stomach over and over again, he’s interrupted by the low rumble of an engine growing louder from the street. 

_Fuck-_  
_You did this to yourself._  
_Remember that._

Watching the light drive closer, Yuri pushes himself up. His hair falls forward along the side of his face, his jaw clenched.  
When the bike pulls up, Otabek does what he always did before, doesn’t say anything, just holds out a helmet and waits. Sort of funny. Without the helmet it’s almost like Otabek is offering his hand.  
Yuri swipes it, pulls it over his head and swings his leg over.  
“Literally fucking anywhere.” 

Otabek nods.  
And drives. 

Because he has to, Yuri has his arms wrapped around Otabek’s middle.  
He doesn’t think about it.

Yuri’s good at not thinking about it. Or maybe he’s not good at not thinking about it. It’s one of those.  
It’s fucking warm though.  
And despite his chest growing tighter the knots in his stomach have already begun to loosen.  
There’s a kind of anticipation- one he hasn’t felt in depressing amount of time. The freedom of letting Otabek take him somewhere. Anywhere.  
_Fuuuck_ , wishing he wasn’t, Yuri feels himself smiling. It’s so many things he liked and hasn’t had... All they’re doing is driving. That’s all. _Just driving..._

As the roads speed past, Yuri goes between feeling a semblance of actual fucking peace for the first time in years and then full on panic stricken body sweats realizing where he is and who is actually in front of him. The one he’s holding onto. The one whose driving them-  
_No_.  
No. Yuri will remind himself how fucking good he is at not thinking about it. Or no. How bad he is at not thinking about it, _right_ , making it that much more important that he doesn’t. _Yes_. 

_Nice to breathe though._ Nice having lungs again. 

Without a clue of how long it’s been since they left, Otabek finally reaches the top of a very tall ridge, slowing to a stop. No one knows look-out points like Otabek. It’s a speciality.  
Yuri unwraps his arms and leans back, that heavy current of regret threatening to push him down under the surface of stability. He ignores it, swimming his way back up to the surface. 

With smooth grace, Otabek silently maneuvers off his bike and casually walks up to the edge of the railing, staring out onto the cityscape.

Yuri looks on at him, noting Otabek, like Yuri, is also dressed in his suit for the banquet tonight.  
_cool._  
_great._  
_yeah no that’s fucking great._  
Not like this wasn’t all fucking impossible enough. 

Yuri sets the helmet down and follows after him, stopping when they’re standing a foot or so apart, side by side.  
“Thanks.” He says it unable to mask the shame.

“Mm.” Otabek doesn’t look at him, instead turns, calmly going to take a seat on a bench close behind them.

Yuri’s brain spins, trying to find a place to start the conversation- or not start it. No, he should start it. It’s Yuri’s fault they’re here. He’ll start it.  
“So. I uh, _fuck_ —“ he pushes off the railing, biting behind his lip, then dropping down on the other side of the bench.  
“You remember all those times I told you this would all start to really suck ass after Victor retired, yeah?” Yuri tries to smile like it’s nothing but he knows he just ends up looking more sad.  
Otabek was the only person he ever spoke to about his foreboding. There was no one else.  
He stares out into the city, “ _Shit_. You know, I think if I ever got interviewed on top of a cliff like this, depending on the questions, there’s a good chance I’d just end up walking straight the fuck off.”

Finally, Otabek looks at him. “Is it that bad, Yuri?”

Yuri frowns. “No. Yes. I don’t know. That was maybe an exaggeration.” His shirt feels too tight. He wants to take these shoes off. His jacket has dirt dusted against the front. Well. Actually, he thinks that looks kind of cool.  
Fucking hell Yakov is going to kill him.  


At least no one will find them? This seems pretty out in the middle of nowhere. And even if they did get spotted- all anyone would see are two world famous athletes, chilling on a bench, wearing some fancy fucking suits, weirdly uncomfortable.

Yuri leans back, glancing at him, “You have any press today?” 

Otabek nods, “Mm. A couple interviews, some photos.” 

Yuri smiles, shaking his head, “Damn, Otabek. Why don’t you look as exhausted as I do?” Otabek doesn’t.  
He never does.  
He looks good. Yuri has been trying not to admire the way Otabek’s suit hangs off of him.  
Which is impossible. _fucking impossible_. The blade twists in his chest and Yuri has to look away, his knee bouncing with a forever pent up frustration.  
“You know, at the very least, when I’m around, you could fake just the tiniest bit of fucking struggle with all of it. Not once have you ever called me to rescue you after an interview. Feels uneven.” 

Otabek smiles but looks like he’s recalling an unpleasant memory “Ah, well, there have been some...”

“Yeah? _Actually_ \- I did read that one that went in on your family. Such obvious garbage. You slept with the journalist and not call back or something?”

“Hm. You read that?”

“ _‘Did I read that?’_ Okay- Just cause I’m ignoring you doesn’t mean I’m not reading everything that’s ever been written about you, Otabek. Of course I read that. I read all of it. They usually ask you about me.“

Otabek lets out a scoffed laugh but Yuri isn’t joking. He really does read every piece on Otabek. It helps him deal with the nostalgia. Even though it usually just makes things worse- like he’s consciously slicing through his own guts and spreading them out on a table.

“I mean it. I do. I get to learn cool facts about you. I learn what shows you’re watching. What music you listen to. Your workout regime. What motivates you—“

“Okay.” Otabek wants him to stop. 

Yuri presses his luck anyway, “Also read one where you talked about your dating life.” He coos. 

“Mm.”

“Yeah and honestly? That shit made me furious. I nearly threw my phone. I think I did actually. _God_ \- it was so boring, Otabek. The least you could be is sexually deviant for everyone. What did you say exactly? Something like _‘I prefer meeting people in person. Meeting people online has no interest for me. My sister calls me old fashioned but_ blah blah’ fuck right off Altin, Jesus Christ. Never been so disappointed in you.”

Otabek laughs through all of it. “I say what I mean.”

“Ha- okay well, If that’s really what you mean you’re going to be sad, lonely, and sexless forever... so- hope all that ancient pretentiousness is worth it.”  
Yuri never doesn’t feel encouraged by the music that is Otabek laughing. It makes it even more difficult to discern when he’s crossed a line.

“I’m alright.” Otabek smiles looking down. 

Yuri snaps, “Why? Cause you are seeing someone? That you met somewhere? At what? A fucking museum or something else boring and cliche? Did you make a quip out loud and then that person overheard it so they made a quip and then the two of you got lunch and suddenly you’ve moved in together?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what happened. I’m in a serious relationship with someone I met at a museum and we spend all our time trying to out quip each other.”

“ _Ugh_. See, you wish that’s what would happen to you.”

“Obviously.”

They hold each other’s gaze. Yuri breaks it.  
“They asked me who my celebrity crush was.”

Otabek arches a brow. 

“That’s what made me walk out.” Yuri rolls his eyes at himself, “fucking stupid, right? Me, I mean. Walking out of an interview because they asked me that. _Walked. Out._ Had a full on crazy head meltdown because a hack journalist asked me who my celebrity crush was.”

Otabek listens, nodding seriously, “You didn’t want them to know it was JJ.”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Yuri drops his mouth, “what is wrong with you?”

Otabek breaks out into a pleased laugh. “I can’t... picture you even _answering_ that question—“

“No shit. Probably because I have _never_ in my life thought of that question. Who thinks about that question? Who would have an answer? Besides maybe-I don’t know- _moms_?” Yuri’s shoulders release in a way they haven’t in a long time, and lets himself laugh with him, “I mean it! It’s fucking stupid! No business in anyone’s mouth let alone head.”

They let their laughter quiet to stillness.

Otabek starts back up first, “When I was young there was a local commercial that played all the time. It was for a mattress store. I don’t know why but I remember the salesman in it had this big full mustache. I’d never seen a mustache that big,” Otabek is staring out into the distance, “I still think about it.”

Yuri has no idea what’s going on. 

“That would probably be my answer.” Otabek says it conclusively. 

Yuri turns to him, brows furrowed, “Your answer to a journalist asking you who your celebrity crush is would be some mattress salesman with a big mustache you saw in a commercial when you were a kid?”

“Mm.” Otabek nods sincerely.

Yuri leans back, mouth open. “ _Wha_ -Okay. Well. Fuck it. Then I’d say mine is probably the bear dressed up like an astronaut on that one cereal box. I think about him all the time.”

“Mm. That bear has always looked kind.”

_Oh_

_There it is._

Like a piano just dropped on him.  
Yuri’s chest braces against that all too familiar weight. Like a very large person is sitting on him. This is why he cannot be with Otabek for too long. It always comes back. And it hurts. Holy fuck, it hurts _so much._ This- This is why he doesn’t do this. This is why he stopped. _Right_. Right... This is why he stopped.

And it makes it so all he wants to do is run. But the person he always ran with is sitting next to him. So he circles in on himself and digs a hole to escape through.  
Usually.  
But right now Yuri tries to let himself sit with it. With the hurt. Because right now, no matter how scared it makes him he cannot deny how good it feels to be here again. Next to him. Talking to him. The immediate relief. The loosening in Yuri’s gut that Otabek commands just by being near. It scares him so god damn much. 

Still, with the sun setting lower and lower in the distance he finds himself saying the last thing he actually wants-  


“We should get back.” 

...  


**=======**

...  


They return to the hotel together but go to the actual reception hall separately.  
Yuri stopped back at his room to clean off his suit as best he could. Otabek, somehow, looked freshly pressed and was able to head straight in.  
Which was for the best.  
Yuri already had the potential of a scandal from walking out mid interview, he didn’t need further gossip hanging around him than there already always was were they to walk in together. And the press already loved spinning stories about their longtime friendship. 

When he finally makes his way down to the reception hall, the first eyes he sees are Yakov’s. Staring him down. Face frowning deeper than usual.  
Yuri swallows but holds his own.  
Absently he touches the phone in his pocket. He hasn’t turned it on since he got on the bike and took the fuck off. Dread creeping in for when he does turn it back on. 

The room spreads out busy and wide. The chattering growing in his ears. His heart pumping faster from the irritation it brings him. The smiling faces. That weird stye of laughing that’s meant to flatter whoever it’s for.  
_God._  
He fucking hates this.  
Always fucking hates this.  


He glances back at Yakov, wondering if he’s going to make his way over to him and bring him into some torturous conversation. Deciding he’ll avoid it as long as possible Yuri walks to the furthest side of the room, ignoring the excited faces spotting him, making his way to the table of pre filled glasses and grabbing what looks like some clear on the rocks something-or-other.  
With a drink in one hand, he stuffs the other in his pocket and stands with his characteristic lean. Surveying the crowd and waiting.  


Yakov still hasn’t made a move towards him.  
Victor and Yuuri are also suspiciously absent. 

It doesn’t take long before a couple fellow skaters come over and shake his hand making light small talk about the programs and the inspiration he’s brought them. He stays gracious and calls them by their names. It’s a far better experience speaking with fellow athletes than sponsors or stuffy officials.  
Which he sees two of now. Starting to make their way over. He takes a large swig of his drink and darts his eyes anywhere else.

Otabek.

Otabek is smiling at him, that same exact Otabek as minutes before, calmly walking over from a different direction in time with the two men who are about to pull Yuri in for a numbing conversation.  
Yuri grips his glass tighter and motions to him a greeting. 

Like they haven’t just spent the last two and half hours driving to and from the top of a cliff. 

_As if he wasn’t full on obsessed wi-_

A middle aged man with a receding hairline and sweaty upper lip smiling giant white teeth at him holds out a hand for him to shake. Another man who looks similarly forgettable stands next to him, also offering a hand.  
Otabek strides over, picking a glass from the table behind Yuri and turning around offering a smile and friendly greeting to all of them. The men smile brightly, looking like they can’t believe their luck having both Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin right here in front of them. 

Yuri can’t help it. He feels the lightest of tugs at the corner of his mouth forcing it up. Sincerely up.  
They keep Otabek there. Talking with increasing amounts of enthusiasm the more he answers. Otabek has an incredible ability to maintain the same easy level of energy for himself throughout a conversation no matter how excited the other participants get. It’s something Yuri can personally attest to. And unlike Yuri, fame and age only made Otabek take more easily to social settings. Not like he was bad before. Otabek’s always been good with this- he isn’t someone who wastes words, he doesn’t pretend, doesn’t lose any part of himself along the way. He just... is. 

When the gentleman finally take their leave, thanking the two decorated skaters and wishing them a good rest of their evening, Otabek and Yuri watch on after them, matching business cards now held between both their fingers. Without even looking at each other, practically in sync, they pocket the cards and take a long swig from their respective glasses.  
Yuri turns to him and tries to glare but it just comes off looking like he understands he lost a game he knows he’ll never win.  
“So fucking easy for you-“

Otabek smirks. “They were harmless.”

“They were exhausting.”

“They think you’re a genius.”

Yuri frowns. “Mm. Yeah, I caught that.”  
An ice cube slides into Yuri’s mouth and he bites down, thinking. Or not really thinking. He isn’t sure which it is.

“You _uh_ \- you wanna take off in an hour and raid my mini bar? Maybe order some porn? I bet you a bottle of the champagne they’re serving here I can find one that has someone who looks like the mustache guy you like so much from that mattress commercial.” 

Otabek laughs into his glass, eyes smiling like magic. “Always so thoughtful, Yuri, how could I ever refuse?”


	4. Part I: 4. Ruined

**=======**

**Nagoya, Japan  
Grand Prix Banquet Night ( _post_ Banquet)**

...  


“Alright- What sad depressing small bottle of alcohol do you want from my mini bar, Otabek?“ Yuri swings open the fridge and accompanying cabinet surveying over the selection. 

“ _Ahm_... Any gin?” Otabek falls back into the ugly green armchair facing him. 

Yuri shuts the cabinet with two small bottles of gin gripped loosely in his fingers. He sweeps his hair up and to the right, standing back up.  
Yuri tosses him the baby sized bottle. Otabek catches it in and checks the label.  
“I don’t know this brand so it’s probably shit.” Yuri climbs unto the couch from behind, settling down and stretching his legs out across the cushions. “If it is shit, feel free to swap it out. My treat.” He leans back into the throw pillows. Notably more comfortable without his suit jacket on, no tie, his shoes off, his sleeves rolled up.  
He’s also trying not to lose himself at the sight of Otabek’s jacket off, tie off, shoes off, and sleeves rolled up. Here, in his room. In front of him.  
But fuck it, does he really _need_ any of his internal organs in the first place?

Otabek ticks the bottle cap off, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

They motion a barely-there cheers and each take a swig.  
_Oop.  
Yup.  
It’s shit. _

“Okay, Otabek,” Yuri rolls his shoulders, mouth hating everything about what he just poured into it, “You gotta do that thing. That thing where you tell me something infuriatingly fucking cool that you’ve been doing. I’m serious. I’m ready. I can take it. Go.“

Otabek takes another swig and nods, considering his answer. “Mm. Well- I’m not sure how all that impressive it is, but I- I’ve turned nearly my entire living area into a kind of makeshift sound studio.” Otabek looks down embarrassed, as if something he just said was embarrassing, “I’ve been going down a rabbit hole of sorts for awhile now. I’m enjoying it, though. Music production. Composing. Making tracks. All ambient or instrumental.”

Yuri nearly chokes on the gin. “What. _Fuck!_ Let’s hear.”

Otabek vehemently shakes his head. “No no no- Nothing is ready for that. It’s all just... play.”

“Fuck that, Otabek. I want to hear it! Ambient? So everything is like... dreamy and stuff?”

Otabek nods, “Mm. Can be. I’ve always liked the way it feels when I hear it- It’s difficult to explain, but I like it. And then when it’s me, you know, turning the knobs, pushing the buttons, layering it all together... it’s- satisfying.”

_God_. Yuri flashes to an image of what it would be like to be that close to Otabek’s ears. Murmur into them. Breathe against them. He’s never been jealous of an inanimate object before but he is now when he thinks of the headphones that get to be pressed close, delivering sounds that make the hair on Otabek’s arms stand up. 

The image of Otabek tingling with pleasure from something-

Otabek takes another drink, amused by a thought, “but it really has taken over my living room. It’s a mess. Wires everywhere- Your cats would love it.”

“No. It’d be a fire hazard. Your building would burn down.”

Otabek grins, nodding to him, “And you. Your turn now.” 

Yuri leans further back on the pillow behind him. “Oh, what cool things have I done recently that you, Otabek Altin, can feel _crazy_ envy for? _Uhhh_ , well, okay, I’m becoming more and more of a 2dimensional lifeless piece of shit hypocritical spokesman every day. In fact, I’m actually very close to reaching my final form which is full on ‘ _cardboard standee_ ’. Once I reach this stage a team of men in gross tailored suits will carry me and set my smiling cardboard corpse into every meeting, every interview, every photo shoot and every meet and greet I’ve been requested to be at. And honestly... I can’t _fucking wait_. I think we’ll all win from it. Really I do.”

It’s like Yuri can feel his own eyes sliding down his face.  
He stares up at the ceiling and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  
He needs to watch it.  
He could easily fall apart. As if he’s not already. The alcohol. Otabek. The pending nightmare that is the moment he turns his phone back on.  
The always pending moment of anything these days.  
But it’s all flooding out of him like it’s got nowhere else to go. 

“I remember whenever we would talk about it- The dread you had. The responsibilities you’ve been assigned aren’t easy.” 

“You know, I really don’t even feel like I’m... here most days.” Yuri isn’t sure what’s wrong with him or why he can’t seem to keep himself from blurting all this crap out. He needs to _stop_ \- “Besides skating. Everything else feels like wading through a lake of shit.”

Otabek sets the bottle of gin down, listening closely. “I would imagine, that it gets easier.”

“ _Ha_. I think it gets easier for someone like you. Sure. We’ve gone over this. You’re you and everyone fucking loves it. And I’m- a high maintenance little shit.”

Otabek makes a displeased sound, “I’ve never heard anyone say that about you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Right. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about _them_.” He points to his phone. 

“I doubt they call you that either.”

“Yeah they don’t have to. It’s... _obvious_. I think they all assumed I’d grow out of it.”

Otabek arches a brow, “‘ _Grow out of it_ ’?”

“Like. Grow out of I dunno, being _this_. Me. Angry. Calling people idiots when they’re being idiots. Like, I’ve tried. But—” Yuri looks back up at the ceiling. “Honestly, all they really want is Victor. That’s all they want. No matter what I do. No matter how many fucking medals I bag. Or records I take. I’m not him. And if it was scientifically possible to put Victor’s consciousness into my body they would have signed me up before they’d cleared and tested on lab rats.”

“Yuri.” Otabek pauses him. “You’ve had unprecedented success. Successes he didnt—“

“Yeah but it’s different isn’t it?” Yuri scratches up against the underside of his chin, still not looking at him, “It’s like... it can’t just be me winning, you know? It’s like they assume because he made the record he’s also choosing who gets to beat it. Like it’s not actually mine. He’ll always be there. It’ll never be, ‘Record held by Yuri Plistestsky.’ It’ll be, ‘Current record is held by Yuri Plisetsky, who broke Victor Nikiforov’s record in the whatever who gives a shit.’ And it just carries... everywhere. You’d think people who follow a sport would love to see records broken. Isn’t that the whole fucking point? But when I do it... it’s like it’s a bummer. Like they don’t want to see his name gone. As if I’m erasing him from history. As if I even fucking could.”

It goes silent.

Yuri isn’t sure when his eyes started stinging.  
“And I cant-“ he pauses at the threat of his voice cracking, trying to laugh it off, “I just can’t do all that stuff- you know? I can’t do what he does- I can’t be-“ he swallows down all sense of pride, “ _Liked_. Not really. I can’t. No matter what I do. Like I’m fucking successful, I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about like- that _thing_. People wanna see me but I don’t know if they root for me. And it’d be fine if I could just be unlikeable or whatever. But I can’t. I have to pretend I’m not and just fucking fail at it over and over again-“

_Jesus._

He hasn’t spoken that much in years. Hasn’t ever let these thoughts leave the confines of his head. Not that they even make any sense-  
He tells himself that if he has to ghost Otabek out of shame of all he’s said tonight he can. He’s done it before. And Otabek didn’t seem to mind. 

“Do you really think they all expect you to be him?”

“Of course they do. If I cant _be_ Victor Nikiforov could I at least fucking act like him?”

An unexpected smile spreads out over Otabek’s face, “I saw an interview where you were asked what music inspires you.” Yuri knows exactly what Otabek is remembering, “and you answered—“

“The music of the crowd when they cheer for me.”  
They say it at the same time. 

Otabek breaks out laughing. “I honestly wondered if they had stuffed you in a closet and replaced you with something else.”

Yuri drags a hand down his face, “ _Fuuuuck_ \- It’s so bad. I felt so fucking stupid. You know that whole thing was ‘damage’ control for when I got caught— _ah_ “  
Yuri stops himself. Blinking.  
He and Otabek never spoke about that part of themselves- meaning their sex lives. Not sincerely anyway. But suddenly the idea that Yuri would be insecure mentioning a random lay he had versus all the far more personal shit he’s said tonight makes him feel like he’s being an idiot so he shrugs it off and presses on.  
“There were photos that came out of me with—“ Yuri checks Otabek’s face for any kind of clue as to what this topic of conversation meant for him... for them. Nothing.  
_Great._  
He continues, “Not bad photos. Nothing _bad_. It was laughable actually. They were just pap-“

“I saw.”

Yuri winces and drops his head back on the throw pillow. “Cool. Any way... Apparently, it struck a chord. There were calls, advisors saying these pap shots had the potential of making me seem ‘unattainable’. Fame-hungry. _Uh_. Horny? That I was going down a ‘dark path’. Whatever the fuck else. So they pushed a just-thankful-to-be-here narrative trying to get me as squeaky clean as you know, is possible for me.” Yuri raises his eyebrows “It was that unconvincing though, huh?”

Otabek shakes his head, “No. I don’t think anyone who didn’t know you would have thought anything of it. It only reminded me of a time when you told off JJ for saying something similar.”

“Oh, well... JJ has been my personal music inspiration for years.”

Otabek’s face falls into something more serious, “I know you say you’ve been struggling, Yuri, but..I have to admit- that’s surprising to hear. I don’t think anyone would ever suspect it. You’ve carried your country with strength. There’s a maturity on and off rink. in interviews, with fans—“ Otabek nods “whether performed or not, it’s something you should be proud of. And they are proud of.” Otabek is lost for a moment in his thoughts “You’ve never been someone to back down. Or become complacent. It doesn’t make it right but maybe they’re trying to keep you occupied by making unattainable expectations.”

“Do you still see me?”

Otabek cocks his head. “Hm?”

“Out there. Is it still me? Or is it some... botched mutated experiment?”

Otabek looks down at the floor. He nods, “I see you, Yuri.”

“How?”

Otabek picks his head back up, “Well. You’re hard to miss. Always getting first place and all.” 

They pause, holding each other’s gaze.  
Yuri has never actually physically held someone’s face before. He’s never wanted to.  
But he tortures himself now imagining what it would be like to hold Otabek’s. Because of how perfect it was. Every part of it.  
Yuri blinks himself out of his daze when he sees Otabek pushing himself up and off the chair, sliding down to the floor. 

_Oh What-_

Very slowly, very calmly, Otabek crawls over beside the couch Yuri is laying on. 

_Why-_

He stops when he gets to the end where Yuri’s feet are, still sitting on the ground, pulling his knees in front and leaning his right side against the edge of the cushion. He rests his head into his hand, looking innocently up at Yuri, his face more relaxed than it has any right to be. 

Yuri is staring.  
Panic setting in.  
Did he sound that pathetic right now? Did he sound so pathetic Otabek felt like he had to come over and comfort him?

“Did you come over here cause... you want to watch porn now or-?”

Otabek smiles. “Sure. Put on your favorite.”

Yuri scoffs and mumbles under his breath loud enough for Otabek to hear “as if you could handle it.” 

“As if you could handle me handling it.”

They’re staring, challenging the other. Willingly, Yuri gives it up first.  
“Otabek.”

“Hm?”

Yuri sits up a bit on the arm rest so he can look at Otabek more easily, brow knitted. “I’m sorry. That I didn’t text. I know I’ve been joking about it like an asshole and I shouldn’t be but... I should have texted back. I’m- an idiot. Also definitely a genius, like those two old nerds said, but also a fucking idiot and... I’m sorry. You _uh_ \- thanks.”

Otabek nods, “It’s alright, Yuri.”

Yuri swallows. He can feel gin on his tongue. His heart is trying to wiggle out of the years long grip that’s been holding it in place.  
Would it feel better?  
If it all just... tumbled out?

Yuri knows his own face is falling. And when Otabek looks up at him Otabek catches it.

It’s terrifying. 

“Otabek-”

Because Otabek’s expression upon seeing Yuri’s changes too. Where it was calm before it’s searching now. Frantically Otabek searches Yuri’s face.  
And the scary part isn’t just that Otabek is searching him, it’s that Yuri is letting him. His whole body is falling more and more. He can’t breathe. His eyes sting from a growing pressure building up into his forehead. 

It’s been years since Yuri felt like he could open his mouth and _talk_. Just talk. Years since he felt... _okay_. He’d forgotten what it felt like to feel okay. To not be alone- to be with someone else. Like his skin remodeling over his body.

_Fuck_. His eyes blink over the stinging. It’s so fucking unfair  
So fucking unfair that it _had_ to be Otabek. It could have been anyone. Really, anyone. Why did it _have_ to be Otabek?  
It’s so fucking cruel. Sitting here is cruel. This room is cruel. The walls and floor and the lights are cruel.  
Because it’s impossible. Right now it’s fucking impossible.  
The wall Yuri painstakingly built to fortify his weak, leaking heart is being beat down and crumbling to the bottom of his gut.  
Because right now-  
Otabek is sitting on the floor next to him.  
And it’s _so warm_.  
He can already feel the memory of it pulling at his chest. Yuri sees himself a week from now revisiting this exact moment and aching from it.  
If Otabek just stretched out his arm he could rest his palm over Yuri’s sock clad feet. 

_It hurts._  
Every second that passes knowing Otabek would never do that hurts. It’s so stupid. And it _hurts_. 

Visibly, Otabek tenses, like maybe he’s on the precipice of finding something-

_Fuck.  
No. _

Yuri puts a lock on himself again.  
“Will you get my phone?” He blurts it out not really thinking, “And turn it on? And uh- tell me how much of a flaming train wreck it is? I think if it’s up to me I’ll probably never turn it on again. I’ll just buy another one.”  
Yuri had to. He had to point out the blatant fear on his face as something else. Anything but the truth.  
Not tonight. Not now. Maybe in 5 years. Maybe 10.  
_Yeah, 10 seems good._

“Are you sure, Yuri? You wouldn’t rather wait?”

“Yeah.” Yuri squints at the ceiling. “I can’t stop _uh_ —freaking out about it.”

Otabek relents. He sits up on his knees and raises himself up off the ground.  
Except he makes literally the stupidest, dumbest, most disastrous mistake...

Otabek doesn’t walk over to the end table where Yuri’s phone is.  
Instead, very calmly, very smoothly, Otabek leans over, right above Yuri’s chest, hands pressing into the armrest behind Yuri’s head, knee pushed into the couch bracketing Yuri’s hip as he reaches over for Yuri’s phone. 

_Oh_

This was the moment all of Yuri’s organs stopped working.  
Everything becomes unbearably painfully slow.  
Painstakingly slow.  
Yuri’s stays frozen, transfixed.  
Otabek’s chest is above him. His shoulders. His neck.  
His jaw.  
_His jaw._  
_His fucking jaw._  
He hasn’t noticed Yuri staring up at him.  
Why would he? Yuri is just a friend. Just a friend he helps out here and there. He’s just a friend reaching for a friend’s phone. Otabek’s messy, sad, angry younger friend he offers support to. That’s all. That’s all this is. That’s all Yuri has ever been to him-

_shit._  
Yuri swallows looking straight up at the skin below Otabek’s throat.  
Skin he would never get to-  
There’s a strange urge to cry, the stinging in his eyes becoming unbearable. He’s _never_ going to get to-

Otabek pulls his arm back, phone clutched in his hand. He goes to make a sound like he’s about to say something but as he’s pulling back he catches Yuri’s face- Staring up at him.  
Yuri has no idea what his face is actually doing but from the look on Otabek it can’t be good.  
Otabek’s eyes start searching the way they had moments before. This time even more franticly. More intensely. Searching every dip, every inch, every part-

Yuri knows he can’t mask it right now. Everything is betraying him. Especially his eyes, he knows they are. They’re the clearest they’ve ever been. He can’t muster up a single cloud to obscure them.  
It’s too late.  
Yuri’s eyes are naked and clear and filled with want. For Otabek. He’s tried so hard. He’s tried so hard to keep this one fucking person. To not ruin everything. To not wreck his own heart before achieving everything he needed to.  
Because he knew he’d never be able to recover from this.  
He’s tried so fucking hard.  
But right now it’s impossible. Absolutely fucking impossible. Otabek is above him, staring at him. Holding himself up by one arm. One perfectly muscled arm. It doesn’t matter how long Yuri has tried to stay resilient. Because right now Otabek is warm. Otabek is here in his room. Otabek is above him. With him. And Otabek is so fucking beautiful it makes Yuri want to cry. 

And well-  
Actually it’s sort of confusing. Because Otabek has never looked at him the way he is right now.  
Never.  
And-  
Maybe...  
it could mean something...  
Maybe it’s worth a shot.  
_Maybe-_

Yuri parts his lips, watching closely. 

Otabek glances down, his eyes darting to Yuri’s lips then quickly going back-

_There._

_That’s-_

It’s enough for him.  
Yuri pushes himself up and presses his lips to Otabek’s-

kissing him.  
_actually_ kissing him

Otabek takes a sharp inhale and holds it. 

Yuri didn’t give himself any warning, just did it before he could stop himself, before the voice of reason can tell him what a monumentally stupid idea it is-

Never has there existed such a deafening silence.  
The seconds feel like minutes.

Regret begins to pool inside him.  
They haven’t moved. It’s only been seconds but Yuri is very aware neither one of them has moved-  
Fear starts to outpace any long wishful desire he could have hoped to fulfill from the fantasy playing out of Otabek’s lips pressed against his own.  
He can’t even feel them.  
He’s lost all feeling.  
Like his mouth has gone numb. 

He should pull back-  
Shi- _oh_  
Otabek’s lips start moving against his. His back curving above him.  
Kissing him back.  
Yuri hears _it_. The sound of them kissing is filling his ears and tunneling through him. Moving lower...

Yuri can’t believe it. He’s ecstatic.  
He doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hand doesn’t know whether to stay put or-  
Eagerly, Yuri pushes himself up on his forearms, craving escalation, needing more, _now_ , pressing in harder, starting to part his lips more, happily welcoming them open.  
And _still_ , Otabek follows, his lips matching Yuri’s pace. Otabek’s lips opening soft and closing against Yuri’s own. 

Yuri’s too scared to open his eyes. It’s pitch dark behind his lids but his heart is moving through colors like it’s malfunctioning in the most glorious way.  
_Please-_  
_god_ , please let this be real-  
He can’t wake up from this...  


Yuri whines, actually whines, unable to control this ball of fire that might be actual happiness burning at his chest.  
Putting all his weight into one arm he lifts the other to the back of Otabek’s neck, sparklers popping inside his guts when he feels the hair at Otabek’s nape tickling against his fingertips.  
Yuri’s tongue uncoils, ready to stretch and reach, needing to dip between Otabek’s lips and _actually_ taste-

A sudden shocked sound escapes Otabek’s lips and he grips into Yuri’s shoulder, pushing him back. The kiss broken.

Yuri’s eyes snap open.  
Otabek is staring at him. Eyes wide. Frozen. 

That look-  
He didn’t want this.  
_Oh. Fuck._

Yuri needs the couch to swallow him.

_No_  
He wants to run out the fucking door.  
Throw his body through the window. 

_No. No no no no-  
Please. _  
Please let him disappear.  
_Fuck._  
“Fuck.”

Otabek’s eyes go even wider seeing Yuri’s face, “No, Yuri- Wait-” 

“Fuck.”

“Yuri-“

Desperately, Yuri scrambles out from under Otabek. Yuri’s hand going to his own face. His eyes. His mouth. Pushing his fingers deep into his forehead. Yuri can’t look at him. Oh _shit_ what did he just do...

Panicking, he goes to the opposite side of the room, far away, to the windows next to the bed. He needs to get out. Away from him. Away from Otabek.  
He should have gone for the fucking bathroom and locked it.  
His heart is going to give out. He’s going to die.  
“FUCK!”

“Yuri-” Otabek takes one hesitant step towards him. 

“No. _You_ need to _go_!” Yuri yells it over his shoulder not daring to look at him.

“No. Yuri, please-”

Yuri leans forward against the window frame. Tears brimming at his eyes.  
He’s so fucking stupid.  
So _unbelievably_ fucking stupid.  
_It’s gone.  
Everything is gone.  
This is it. _ This is the moment he ruined fucking everything. He knew he would. He always knew he would. He knew it.  
He slumps more against the window’s edge. Tears falling down his face.  
He’s pathetic. He has never been more pathetic. 

“Yu-“

“Oh my god! Just _fucking go_! It doesn’t matter!—“  
He hears the crack in his own voice and it makes him livid. Makes him _furious_. He’s shaking.  
He can’t believe he was so stupid. He can’t believe he was so _fucking_ stupid. After all these years. To ever think that Otabek would want—

“Yuri, look at me.”  
Otabek is behind him. 

Yuri shakes his head, refusing. Absofuckinglutely not.  
Knee bouncing. He lets out a frustrated sound and kicks the mattress to his right, pivoting his body as far away from Otabek as possible.  
“No-“ 

“Yuri-“

“I don’t care. It doesn’t fucking matter. FUCKING GO!” His eyes swollen and wet.

“Yuri, please-” Otabek sounds exhausted. “I’m begging you, look at me. _Please_.” He says it slower. Almost like a warning. “I didn’t mea-“

“STOP!” Yuri feels a tremor go through his head, staring at the wall like he can will it to crack open. Praying that Otabek leaves him. This was worse than being pushed away.  
It’s what drove Yuri away in the first place. Because he knew this would happen.  
He doesn’t want to hear Otabek sadly tell him _why_. Doesn’t want to hear Otabek forgive him and tell him it’s alright. That he’s flattered but doesn’t feel the same— 

_This is why_. This is why he cut off everything. He _knew_ this would happen.  
Yuri feels the sharpest cut form on his heart. And it’s seeping.  
He wants to scream.

“You need to turn around, Yuri.”

He really should have gone for the bathroom.  
Maybe he still can.  
_Fuck!_  
Otabek wont fucking move because he’s an overly sentimental condescending asshole who obviously thinks Yuri is a child who can’t deal with his own shit.  
Yuri’ll just force past him.  
Because he can’t stay here. Not cornered like this- Staring at a wall- Afraid to move. 

Deciding he’ll risk it, Yuri whips his body around as fast as he can, moves forward as fast as he can, hoping he can shove past Otabek and lock himself in the bathroom across the suite. 

Otabek catches him by the arm and before Yuri can retaliate Otabek’s mouth comes crashing into his like a meteor hitting the earth.

Yuri gasps into Otabek’s mouth, breath stopped, feet glued. Permanently. Right here. In this spot. Unable to move.  
He is spinning though. He must be. Like the whole room just rotated on its axis.

Otabek’s thumb presses deep into Yuri’s cheek while holding Yuri’s face. Pleadingly. Desperately. Like he’s begging Yuri not to leave. To just stay here. Kissing him.  
_How-_  
Otabek eyes squeeze harder and he makes a strangled groan, sending it into Yuri’s mouth, igniting fire at Yuri’s chest. Friction caused by the sudden change in emotions. It lights below his abdomen and pushes up out his mouth breathing heat out against Otabek’s lips. Otabek releases Yuri’s arm and slides his hand down the collar of Yuri’s shirt, pushing Yuri more into his chest.

They release, their foreheads tipping into each other as they catch their breath, and Yuri feels every ounce of fight in him moments ago morph into years long sexual need. He doesn’t have the brain power to ruminate on anything.  
The only thing he knows is that Otabek is kissing him again like he wants him.  
Him.  
Otabek is kissing him and touching him and pressing into him like he wants him. _Actually_ wants him. 

Otabek moves off of Yuri’s mouth like he’s no longer contained, his lips on Yuri’s cheek, kissing lower, kissing down Yuri’s neck, tongue rolling out onto Yuri’s skin. A pent up sound freeing from his throat...  
_Oh what the actual fu-_  
Yuri brings Otabek back up to his face, meeting his eyes and leaning in just so he can bite and hold Otabek’s bottom lip between his teeth. _Finally_. Just like this. He sucks it, unable to stop from moaning at the feeling of it before opening his mouth back to him.  
It’s everything.  
_God_ , it’s fucking everything.

Otabek slips his tongue between Yuri lips, curling and pulling out deep needing sounds from the base of Yuri’s throat. Yuri’s pants are grow tight, the space between his legs pulsing the rest of him. Rightfully, his dick is losing it’s god damned mind.

He wants to drown in this. Needs to. After all these years imagining the taste of Otabek‘s tongue. And to find out it’s like watered down honey with a hint of gin. Yuri wants to coat himself in it. Soak in it for _days_ before having to wash it off. 

Low frustrated sounds come from Otabek as he struggles unbuttoning Yuri’s shirt but Yuri’s too busy to help because he’s been undoing Otabek’s this whole time and just now made it to the last button.  
Yuri slides his hands inside and sucks in a sharp breath.  
He looks down, watching as his fingers glide across Otabek’s stomach.  
“ _Oh- Shit._ ” Yuri whispers it.  
He slides the shirt off more, and Otabek shrugs it off entirely, closing his eyes and dipping his head as Yuri’s hands run up and down his stomach, his back, his shoulders, eyes consuming him-

Otabek leans in, lips on Yuri’s ear, kissing the lobe with a gentle suck.  
Yuri whines, hands stopped on Otabek’s hips, gripping and pushing into him, feeling a hardened mass press against his own.  
He swallows. 

_This might actually be happening-_

Otabek has returned to kissing his cheeks. Purposefully kissing at the tears that had fallen, causing Yuri to tense, but Otabek, like he knows, meets their lips again, and sends his tongue in to stroke against his, soothing it. And with a relieved sigh at having finally unbuttoned all of Yuri’s shirt Otabek carefully pushes the fabric back off Yuri’s shoulders, and Yuri slides his arms out, letting it fall to the floor. 

Otabek stops kissing him, his hands trailing fire down his arms. 

“Yuri-”  
It’s pointed. Like he wants to actually say something. 

Yuri braces himself. He’s not sure if he’s ready to talk. Everything feels too fucking good and he’s pretty sure he’ll just end up ruining everything.  
What they’re doing scares him. What it’s doing to his guts, to his heart— he ran away from it for all those years. To need someone this much. And now that Otabek is actually here. Kissing him like he wants him back- This might be scarier. He shouldn’t feel this much comfort from Otabek’s lips on his cheeks. 

“No. _Please,_ \- you need to hear this-“

Yuri opens his eyes. Their foreheads resting against each other. Gently, Otabek pushes back the hair from Yuri’s face, tucking it behind his ear.  
It’s stupid but it nearly causes his tears to come back. Yuri’s always imagined him doing that- this is all so fucking terrifying.  
“I’ve loved you since Barcelona.”

_Oh._  
Yuri searches his eyes. Pleading that it’s true but also grappling with the the concept that Otabek has felt this way for _that fucking long?_

“Yuri, I didn’t know— I never knew—“

“ _How!_ ” Yuri pulls back, sudden fury pouring out of him. “Otabek! What does that even mean? Fucking _how_?” It doesn’t seem possible. It was so obvious. Yuri hated himself every day. Let himself go numb more and more every day. “How could you not know?” He glares at the warm sincerity in Otabek’s face and feels the inescapable weight in his chest bury him deeper. His eyes are filling, “ _You_ were the only one. You’re the only one I ever wanted... _how_? How could you not know?-“

He can’t help it. Not when Otabek looks at him like that. He pulls Otabek’s mouth to his again. Because he already missed it. Needs it.  
Without any need for build up they return to the same fervor as before and increasing. Their tongues stroking and massaging at the same pace as their hands, kneading into each other even if their voices can’t.  
Now Yuri knows nothing will ever be as soft as Otabek’s tongue. Nothing will ever feel like Otabek’s tongue coaxing desire out from inside Yuri’s mouth. 

Softly, causing the hairs on Yuri’s arms to stand, Otabek’s sweeps across Yuri’s chest with the tips of his fingers, but when they end up grazing over Yuri’s nipples they linger, unable to break away. Yuri, despite the pent up anger boiling over in him moments ago, can’t help but smirk into Otabek’s mouth, feeling Otabek’s fingers pushing on the sensitive pink bud, tweaking them between the lengths of his fingers until they grow hard. A flurry of insects flickering up from the lowest part between Yuri’s legs.  
“ _You_ \- You’ve wanted to do that-“ It comes out husky and amused.

Otabek nods into his mouth, a look of sin crossing his lips. “ _So much_ -“ Otabek breaks from him and kneels, lowering himself to take one of Yuri’s nipples into his mouth.

“ _Oh f_ -“ _uck_ Yuri swallows and holds onto the top of Otabek’s head and shoulder to keep himself standing.  
He _really_ wasn’t expecting this.  
_Fucking Christ._  
Otabek’s tongue swirls, circles and kneads around the pink bead standing flushed and erect. Otabek glances up at him before closing his eyes and pressing his face in to suck.  
Yuri chokes out a sound and pushes Otabek’s head in more, his body melting from it. Otabek has him between his teeth, his tongue lapping at the tip. Strings of saliva stretch out from his tongue, out from his lips to the skin surrounding the blushing pink center.  
Yuri’s either going to pass out or a gallon of come is going leak out of some part of his body.  
“ _Oh my god-”_

Otabek hums with him into his chest before moving to Yuri’s other nipple and repeating everything he just did. Lapping and kneading and pulling and tugging. An uncontrolled hunger showing-  
Otabek looks up at him, Yuri’s nipple between his teeth, his tongue teasing against the tip. “ _Fuck_ , Otabek. Come here.”

Otabek kisses the space between the two before rising back up. He leans his forehead back against Yuri’s. They stay there, panting, catching their breath. Both unable to believe any of it. 

Carefully, Yuri lifts his hand against Otabek’s cheek, pressing his fingertips into the warm flesh, his mind still grappling with the idea that everything that’s happening is not actually a dream. Otabek leans into it closing his eyes, turning his head to plant a kiss on Yuri’s palm.  
Yuri starts to say something that’s actually important but loses his train of thought entirely because his own finger has started mindlessly stroking along the underside of Otabek’s jaw, “ _This-_ “ Yuri leans in and _finally_ \- finally, Yuri gets to feast and taste and swallow and worship _it_ \- he kisses the slight dip in Otabek’s cheek as his fingers move to the back of Otabek’s head, tugging lightly at his hair.  
Otabek sighs, titling his head back.  
Yuri parts his lips more and licks a stripe along the sharp line leading from his his ear all the way to his chin, going back to kiss each and every inch, drinking it like a drug, nipping lightly when he can’t help it.  
He purrs low, “Otabek. Your jaw- it’s been _fucking killing me_ -”

Otabek brings his head back down. Mimicking Yuri’s movements, he strokes his own finger under Yuri’s jawline, admiring it. “Interesting. I always liked yours-”

“No. No. I mean. Mines fine. It does its job fine. But yours is- _shit, Otabek_ ,” Yuri leans back slightly, looking at him, eyes wide, “Your face is _so good. So so good_. Being near you has been such bullshit. _God_. I’ve had to sit there and not look at you like a perv for the past-“

Yuri spots the similar sudden frustration he had moments ago now flash across Otabek’s face. And just like Yuri, the only thing Otabek can think to do is pull him into an almost violent kiss.  
Their teeth clashing. Otabek’s tongue arches reaching all the way back for Yuri’s throat. Yuri wraps his arms around his shoulders. Otabek twists his head for a better angle, his tongue stretching further.  
Yuri moans long and deep, Otabek’s hands grip harder into his waist and hip, staining bruises into his skin-

With a harsh exhale Otabek pulls back. “Don’t _ever_ , complain to me about being worried of looking like a- _a perv_ , Yuri. You have _no-_ “  
Otabek can’t finish, he starts pulling away, trying to collect himself.

“No. Wait. Don’t-“ Yuri circles his arms around his waist, keeping him in place. “Don’t go.” Yuri searches him, “You wanted me? You’re not- just saying that? You- you _actually_ wanted me? Not just like- wanted me to be okay and look out for me or whatever charity shit. You wanted me? Actually?” Yuri doesn’t mean to say it so pathetically but it all falls out of him before he can push it back down.

Otabek looks at him like he might be in pain, “ _God, Yuri_. Yes. _Yes_ ,” Otabek meets their lips again, and takes the lead entirely. He walks Yuri backwards with his hands firm at his waist, and Yuri lets him, happily lets him, _so so happily_ , when the back of Yuri’s legs hit the mattress Otabek guides him down, refusing to break their lips, moving together until Yuri’s pulled himself back to the pillows and lays fully stretched out, Otabek above, bracketing his hips, thumb stroking his cheek.  
Otabek dips his head down into Yuri’s collarbone and sighs into it like he’s finally arrived at his own personal sanctuary. “It’s been _unbearable_ , Yuri- You have no idea...“ 

It feels like a knife being pulled from him.

Yuri pulls Otabek’s head back up from his collarbone to look at him. “Otabek...” his mouth parts, trying to take in everything. Otabek’s body above him. His bare torso. Eyes half-lidded, filled with everything. Lips swollen. His hardening cock.  
“Now. We should- we should have sex right now.”

Otabek swallows, staring dangerously at Yuri’s lips. But his brows furrow, clearly hesitating on a thought. Frantically Yuri’s eyes dart over him, concerned. He didn’t think he was reaching when he requested it... he goes to say something but Otabek beats him “Earlier- you said-”

Yuri waits. 

“That you’ve only ever wanted... Did you mean that?“

“Otabek-“ Yuri locks onto him and pulls his heart straight out of his chest, preparing to plate it, “It’s been you. It’s only ever been you. I know that— _shit_ “ Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and puts a frustrated hand to the middle of his forehead, “I know I have a reputation alright? I know. But honestly the only reason there’s a reputation at all is because no one ever magically turned into you.” He blinks open again, “It was _fucking annoying_.”

Otabek smiles and Yuri breathes a sigh of relief because Otabek smiling looks like actual fucking sunshine and maybe now, _finally_ he’ll— “Earlier on the coach-“ 

“ _Ooooh my god... whhhhyyyyy_ “ Yuri groans into the pillow really not understanding how they weren’t drenching come all over each other yet.

“I know, Yuri. _Believe me_ , I know. But I honestly can’t- not until some of this gets sorted... Earlier on coach, I stopped because I thought maybe...” His voice falters, Yuri sees his tongue frozen against the roof of his mouth. Yuri has never heard Otabek struggle for words like this. He normally just doesn’t fucking talk. “I was worried you were just- _ah_ —“

“That I was just out for a quick fuck with my best friend, Otabek?” Otabek gives him an ashamed look that tells him he’s right. It takes everything in Yuri not to laugh. Because it’s absurd. If this perfect beautiful marble sculpture of a man who smiled like sunshine had any fucking clue how absurd that statement was... The idea that Yuri would ever dip and dash on Otabek Altin... _Wow_

“I don’t know whether to be offended or commit you to an asylum. But no. You can take that worry straight to the fucking incinerator. No, I was not out for a one and done bang session with you tonight, Otabek. If you knew like, anything you would realize how bananas fucking stupid that idea is.”

Yuri thinks his dick might actually pack its bags and move out at this point.

“ _But_ \- I still don’t understand, Yuri-“ Otabek chokes back on a thought, not comprehending something “You never-“

“ _YOU_ never!” Yuri snaps harder than he means to. With a frustrated grunt, he pushes himself up so he’s sitting, Otabek sits back on his heels. They’re face to face, bare chests across from one another. 

_Great  
Fine  
_ Guess they’re doing this talking shit now then  
_Fucking Christ  
_ Who has years long boners anyway 

“You were the older one, Otabek. I figured, since you were the older one, if you were interested you’d be the one to do something. But you didn’t do something. You didn’t do anything. Done. There.”  
Yuri hates this conversation. Really hates it. His forehead feels like it’s gonna burst. 

Otabek blinks confused, like the ground just flew out from under him, “Yuri, that doesn’t- no. I— You were the one who led everything. You led everything between us. You never held back when it came to anything. I was waiting- I felt so much for you. And I kept waiting. But you never made any incline or said anything that pointed to you wanting more. After so long, all I could do was assume you didn’t- at least not with me. Because, _you_ — you had never held back on anything that you wanted. Never. As far as I knew.”

_Oh._

_Huh_  
The stinging at his eyes comes back.  
_He’s right._

It never occurred to Yuri.  
Yuri led everything. Where they went. What they did. What they ate. What they watched. When they talked...

Yuri looks down at Otabek’s hand.  
It used to be Yuri who reached for it.  
But then something changed. Suddenly Yuri wanted it to be him. Only him.  
At some point Yuri stopped reaching for Otabek’s hand because he wanted Otabek to be the one who reached out for his. He wanted Otabek to be the one who leaned in one day, cradled his cheek, and kissed him.  
_Only_ Otabek. _No one_ else.

But Otabek didn’t.

Yuri looks up at him, “I— _shit._ ” He squeezes his eyes shut, “I don’t know how you could have known, you’re right _but_ —“ it feels so selfishly childish now, “I think I- _no_ , I know. _I know_ that I wanted it to be you who did it. And I didn’t want to have to tell you, I just wanted you to want to. I think because it was the only way I’d know that you actually wanted me. Or, I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to not lead this _one fucking_ thing. I don’t know. None of that probably made any sense- I just- I wanted you to kiss me, Otabek. That’s all.”  
It’s an awful feeling, Yuri thinks, taking all his skin off and leaving nothing but the vulnerable pulsating pink meat that is himself. 

There’s a hand at his cheek, Otabek looks at him devastated, “Yuri. I wanted to. I did. But I didn’t know how you felt. I thought I was doing what was best. For you. Waiting for some signal, _anything_ \- I felt out of my mind most days. I didn’t want to hurt you. Or scare you. I didn’t want to wipe out a friendship due to a selfish act. And I really thought, that you’d tell me or show if you felt anything. When you started pulling away— I assumed my own heartbreak. And then when you started being photographed with people, I-“

Yuri’s throat constricts, panic building, “Those were just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Yuri. For me it confirmed everything I suspected- You didn’t see me the way I saw you.”

Yuri sinks in on himself. It seems impossible still. But the years long fog slowly starts to dissipate around them. “We’re like, the world’s two saddest dumbasses.” He says it defeated.

Otabek laughs and rubs at his eyes. “Maybe.” He brushes back the hair that’s fallen over half of Yuri’s face. Leaning into it, Yuri remembers again all the times he imagined Otabek doing exactly this. And how much he’d hate himself for wanting it. 

“You are so beautiful, Yuri, it’s heartbreaking.” There’s something in the way that Otabek says it, like he can’t believe what’s in front of him. 

Yuri’s eyes are still slightly wet, his cheeks pink, his heart is needing...  
“Otabek,” Yuri bites the inside of his own lip, willing courage to start surging through him again.  
Slowly, Yuri reaches his hand out and fingers the top of Otabek’s pants, then pauses, checking to see if Otabek will stop him. He doesn’t. Yuri places his palm against Otabek’s crotch, breathing in deep when he feels the strength of what’s underneath. “Can we?”

Otabek’s eyes close and he sighs, “You’re about to completely ruin me, Yuri,” his voice low and hoarse in a way that makes the muscles in Yuri’s chest unconsciously flex.

Gently, Otabek leans in to kiss him, leading both of them into a slow steady rhythm, guiding Yuri’s lips open and slipping in his tongue.  
Otabek rises higher back on his knees as he brings Yuri back down to the pillow, positioning himself back to where he was, knees bracketing against the tops of Yuri’s thighs, one hand holding himself up, the other stroking light trails of fire against Yuri’s side.  
Instinctively, Yuri’s back arches, his knees sliding up, willing Otabek to shift so that he stretches between his thighs instead.

Otabek pulls his tongue back, “How do you want-“ 

“You. In me.” Yuri says it without any hesitation, knowing immediately what he was asking. “I want you in me.”

Otabek’s head goes limp onto Yuri’s shoulder.  
Yuri grins into his hair, “That alright?” 

He feels Otabek nod, fingers stroking up the inside of his thighs.  
“ _Yes_.” Otabek mumbles it into his shoulder. He brings his head up, like he’s just been dropped from the center of a cyclone. A really good cyclone.  
He bows down, recapturing their lips, tracing his tongue across Yuri’s bottom one. 

There’s a tug at the top of Yuri’s pants, Otabek’s fingers pull down his zipper and Yuri can practically hear his dick calling out for him-  
Otabek sits back, bringing Yuri’s pants down. Yuri shifts under him and pulls them off, throwing them to the side. He goes to reposition himself but stops when his own fingers touch the waistband of his underwear. He looks up at Otabek who is staring at him, lips flushed, eyes hungry.  
Yuri is sure he will never want anything this much.  
Ignoring the heat in his cheeks he slips his underwear off, swallowing, and repositions himself. Sitting up on his forearms and without any hint of shyness, Yuri lets his thighs fall just as they were before. 

Yuri motions to Otabek’s pants, “You, next-“ 

Otabek looks up from Yuri’s bare hard cock, blinking himself back into reality and mindlessly starts unbuttoning his pants, his eyes still glued to the space between Yuri’s legs.  
After discarding them he quickly goes back up on his knees to do the same with his underwear but Yuri sits up and stops him. His hands resting over Otabek’s, looking up at him, wordlessly asking for permission to do it himself.  
Because he wants this to be an unveiling of sorts. A _real_proper_ceremony_.  
After fantasizing about Otabek’s dick for so long... making himself cum from the fantasy in his mind and knowing without a doubt how much it still probably fell short from the real thing, he needs this moment to be permanently etched into his brain.

Otabek looks down at him, pulls his hands back and gives the slightest nod.  
Yuri bites the inside of his lip, eager to take in his prize, grasping at the waistband and tugging down.  
_Oh god_  
“Oh fuck.”  
It comes out as a low breath. 

Otabek’s hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves so he pulls them up to his own head, raking them through his hair, looking down unsure whether he should wait or-

“ _Fuck_.” Yuri sighs it, his eyes drinking him in. “ _Your dick_ \- it’s so gorgeous, Otabek.” Without even thinking, Yuri slides a hand over and grips at the base, continuing to admire it, eyes blown wide. 

“ _Ah_ \- okay-“ Otabek chokes back and pushes a hand into Yuri’s shoulder to steady himself. 

Yuri pretends not to hear and gives him a slow pump, watching the way the skin moves with his touch. 

“Yuri-“ Otabek’s fingers grip deeper into his shoulder. 

Yuri pumps again but higher, this time reaching his thumb up to the crown of the head, becoming mesmerized by the tip and the way it graciously starts to leak for him.  
“ _Oh-_ “ Yuri says it in greeting, and again, without thinking Yuri leans in, his mouth watering, his tongue pushing through his lips.

“No! Yuri-“ Otabek stops him, one hand pushing against Yuri’s chest, the other cradling his face, holding it in place. Yuri blinks himself out of his hypnosis and looks up, confused, his fingers still firmly circled around the base of Otabek’s dick. “I won’t last, Yuri- you’re- if you want us to-“

“No. _Otabek_. Just a taste-” Yuri trails his fingers against the curve of Otabek’s ass. His perfect fucking ass. Dreamily Yuri presses the side of his face against his own hand still gripping Otabek’s cock, looking up at him through his eyelashes, “ _I promise_. I just want to taste you. I’ve imagined tasting you for so long. _Please._ ”

Otabek’s face says there’s a very real, very violent battle occurring inside of him. Thankfully, from the way Otabek’s grip in his shoulder loosens, Yuri feels the side he’s rooting for winning. He looks up with eyes swearing to him trust, “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to but if you’re just worried about blowing too fast don’t- I won’t let you. I’ll hold back. I promise. _Please, Otabek_. Look at you- you’re- _fuck_ -”

Otabek can’t make words, all he does is swallow, his face looks like it’s trying to wrap his mind around Yuri looking up at him like this, begging to take his leaking cock into his mouth. The battle comes to a close as he gives the smallest faintest of nods. 

Yuri tries not to smile too wide. He turns his head so his breath catches against the the base of Otabek’s cock in his grip, feeling it burn back hot against his own face. He closes his eyes, leaning in to press a kiss against the shaft. 

“Yuri-“ it’s a warning. 

Yuri gives an assuring look and pulls his head back, positioning Otabek’s cock directly in front of his lips.  
His tongue twitches.  
Fingers grip anticipating into his shoulder.  
Yuri parts his mouth and takes him in, relishing at the feeling of his lips sliding over the crown of Otabek’s hard pulsing cock. 

“ _Oh my god-_ “ Otabek braces his lips together to keep sound from spilling out, curling his spine and gripping deep into the top of Yuri’s back. 

Yuri doesn’t plan on breaking his promise but he already starts to dread the moment he’ll have to break away.  
Otabek’s dick is hard and warm and leaks salted musk that heals the inside of Yuri‘a mouth with an unnatural glow.  
Holding himself back, Yuri pointedly slides his tongue along the underside of the head. Directing small quick laps along sides. 

“Yuri-“ Otabek is warning again but it sounds more like pleasure. 

Yuri hums back but he can’t part yet. His tongue refuses. Instead it makes its way to Otabek’s tip and dips in deep, spreading the slit and lapping hungrily at the fresh liquid seeping off the top.  
Otabek makes a low almost angry groan that takes everything in Yuri not to escalate by bringing his mouth further down.

Both of Otabek’s hands press against Yuri’s shoulders and push back lightly, “Yuri, _please_ \- you have to stop- I need to-“

It works. Yuri lets off with a loud wet pop echoing after him. He licks and sucks at his own swollen lips, grinning wickedly up into Otabek’s face.  
“I want you every day, Otabek. I want to swallow you every fucking day-“ he says it rising up on his knees to meet him, his arms wrapping around his neck. 

Otabek smiles as his breath catches up. He leans in to sink his teeth into Yuri’s lower lip, tugging him closer before catching his lips and smoothing his tongue inside Yuri’s mouth.  
_Fuck_ , it’s so fucking good.  
All he wants to do is drown and drown and drown. 

Yuri falls back on the bed, bringing Otabek with him, thighs open for Otabek to settle between. Otabek exhales with a long roll of his hips.  
Their bare erections touch for the first time causing quick lightning to flash at the point of contact.  
Regretfully Yuri stops, “Shit. I gotta- Stuff is-over there. Sorry. I should have said it earlier before you got all comfortable and rolled your dick on me.”

Otabek continues kissing him, “Where?”

“What. No. I’ll get it-“

Otabek rolls again, harder, the wet tips of their dicks meeting. 

“ _Fuck_. In the suitcase. Side pocket.”

Otabek nips at his top lip and pushes up off the bed.  
Yuri turns to watch, biting his own tongue as Otabek kneels and rummages for the items they need.  
When he returns, he drops the clear bottle and condom at the corner of the sheets and dips down planting kisses starting from Yuri’s knee all the way up to his thighs, his hips, then he starts to linger lower, his eyes hungry on Yuri’s cock.

“Don’t you dare.”

“That’s not fair, Yuri-“ Otabek dips his head and takes a bite out of the side of Yuri’s ass.  
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and squirms then hears the sound of a bottle cap snapping open. His heart beating twice as fast. 

Calmly, Otabek pours lubricant into his palm, smoothing it until his fingers are glossy and slick.  
There’s a dreamy look passing over Yuri’s face like soft clouds on a summer day.  
Otabek leans back over, resting on his forearm and giving Yuri a soft lingering kiss, watching him closely.  
“If it’s too much, tell me-“

When he feels Otabek’s hand slide from his erection, down to his testicles, and press up finding the space they both so desperately want, Yuri has to press the back of his hand into his mouth, muffling his own sounds. His thighs spreading more, welcoming a part of Otabek to finally be inside him.

At an agonizingly slow pace Otabek pushes a finger in.  
Yuri sighs... relief washing over him as he closes his eyes.  
It’s _him_ \- pressing inside... every nerve touched lighting itself up from the trail of Otabek’s finger.  
With a frustrating amount of care, Otabek works him-. _It’s_ \- Yuri’s body writhes- it’s _too fucking slow_ \- Otabek is _slow_ \- refusing to escalate anything until he’s satisfied with the effortlessness of the glide. There’s struggle though- Yuri can feel it- he feels the soft fluttering of Otabek’s eyelashes opening and closing against his neck, like Otabek keeps having to snap them shut to hold himself back- Yuri writhes more, wanting to drown him inside.

Another finger pushes in.  
Yuri arches, sighing, spreading more and more. Everything in him eager to be stretched.  
But Otabek won’t rush- won’t add until he’s thoroughly relaxed the hold Yuri’s body wants to constrict him in, carefully massaging and pushing against the walls quivering _only_ for him- _by_ him, patiently working until he can slip in and out as easily as he did before.  
Satisfied, Otabek makes a pleased moan then bites into Yuri’s neck, lingering with two, and folding them in. Beckoning inside.  
_Yes_  
Yuri’s hand grips into Otabek’s arm next to his head, lips parting.

Otabek kisses against his jawline, and adds a third.  
Yuri pushes the back of his head further into the pillow with a whine. _So warm_ \- it’s making him brighter- Otabek burns and fills him- pressing into the parts _that_ \- Yuri whimpers. Otabek’s fingers curl inside- motioning for Yuri to come closer to his own edge, daring him to let go. Yuri bites back another frustrated whine, rocking his hips into Otabek’s fingers, his core seeping with want.

“Yuri-“

“ _More_ ”

Otabek swallows and inserts another.  
Yuri smiles pleased, continuing to rock and spread his knees further apart. Otabek presses in deeper, knowingly, starting to hit against the cluster of nerves that can make white light envelope and drown Yuri into a sea of colors.

Yuri’s mouth drops open, sounds he has no control over falling from his lips with every push and pull. _How_ \- It could just be the fact that it’s Otabek doing it but the way Otabek works him, it’s like he’s been studying Yuri’s body for years. The way he’s rubbing and stretching him, pushing into him, the bright white light being summoned so easily it starts filling his abdomen brighter than its ever been. Otabek’s mouth suctioned at the base of Yuri’s neck, low faint groans echoing into Yuri’s skin- pleasure burning between his legs and at the sensitive skin Otabek latched his lips on to-  
He grabs at Otabek’s arm and hisses out a breath, he doesn’t want to come yet but- “ _Your_ \- your fingers fuck _really_ good, Otabek-”

“ _God_ Yuri-“ Otabek pushes himself up, clearly the words pushing some personal limit for himself. His fingers slide out and he reaches for the condom at the corner of the bed. Yuri pants, his knees falling, smiling, reveling in the feeling of Otabek driving his release, every progression feeling euphorically better than the last. 

He’s never felt this. Never wanted someone to take control like this. Never let someone take control like this.  
Not once.  
This was everything.  
_Otabek was everything._  
He knew it.  
He fucking knew it.  
He always knew it. 

Rolling the condom onto his cock, Otabek picks up the bottle of lube with his other hand. Squeezing it into his palm before stroking it onto his dick.  
Yuri watches. His breath heavy. He starts to reach up, hungrily wanting to touch and help but Otabek just smiles at him, grabbing Yuri’s outreached hand, kissing Yuri’s palm, then kissing each of his fingers, biting his pinky before interlacing their hands and bringing them down with him. 

Pulling Yuri’s hips up Otabek positions himself, grazing Yuri’s entrance. Their hitched breathing perfectly in sync, hazily they stare into each other, taking in the last moments before nothing ever feeling as good as what they’re about to do.  
“Please, tell me if I go too-“

“I love you.”

Otabek freezes. Yuri’s brows knit, wondering if that was an incredibly stupid thing to blurt out right now.  
In his mind he had reasoned it would be more cliche to say it after. Or even during. Saying it before, he thought, made it more genuine and not dependent on his own climax or the aftermath of his own climax. 

Besides, Otabek had already sort of said it.

And honestly, none of this should really be news if Otabek was actually paying attention to anything Yuri had said all night. Or even just like, looked at him.

It’s been a long time.  
He knows.  
Yuri knows.  
This isn’t news.  
Not to Yuri at least. And it shouldn’t be to Otabek. Not anymore.

Yuri inwardly assures himself again and doubles down.  
“I do. I love you.” He repeats it, keeping his eyes soft and sucking on his own bottom lip. 

Otabek strokes his thumb across the back of his hand. When his mouth parts the words leave him like he’s in a dream, “I love you, Yuri.” And without pausing Otabek wordlessly leans on his arms, giving one last longing glance into Yuri eyes before dipping his head and thrusting, plunging himself slow and deep inside. 

Yuri chokes out a cry. 

The ceiling transforms into a million stars.

When he’s fully entered Otabek stops, staying perfectly still. His face pressed into the space below Yuri’s collarbone. 

Yuri can feel Otabek’s back deflate with his exhale.  
All while feeling himself, closing around Otabek’s hard cock. Shaping itself to it.  
“Otabek-“  
Yuri looks down and sees Otabek still unmoving. Short breaths tapping into his skin. The insides of Yuri’s stomach churn and squeeze themselves together, unable to pick a feeling to focus on. The sight of Otabek finally inside him, gripping unto him like he was afraid he might fall apart... it was the _sweetest_ most _fuckable_ thing. 

Yuri runs his hands through Otabek’s thick dark hair, tipping his head to the side so he can look into his eyes.  
Otabek looks up, struggling to stay afloat.  
_He’s perfect_. The way he looks at Yuri is perfect. 

Yuri spreads his thighs wider, welcoming more. Assuring him just how okay it was to continue, to push further, to move again.  
Otabek breathes in and lifts his hips, sliding himself out and with just as much careful effort pushes himself back in. 

“ _Oh—_ “ Yuri let’s out a long sigh. 

Otabek doesn’t stop. His hips bringing him in and out. His dick reentering with a slow building fervor, like it’s found something addictive it can’t stop tasting.  
“Yuri-“ Otabek lifts his head finally, looking like a natural disaster, “ _You-_ ” He says it through clenched teeth, his voice husky and low, “you _feel_ \- you feel like _heaven_ -“ continuing to rock his hips at a smooth steady pace. 

Any ounce of control Yuri had crumbles spectacularly to dust. Yuri hisses out a breath, hot flares shooting up from inside him. Spreading his legs wider with his knees lifting and falling back, Yuri grasps into Otabek back, taking in the muscles rippling and flexing under him.  
“ _Holy shit-_ ” Yuri moans in disbelief. The friction Otabek’s dick makes by filling him, it’s like bright neon sparks shooting color all the up to into his abdomen. The inner muscles of himself being kneaded into liquid. 

Otabek leans in, sucking at the skin below Yuri’s neck, kissing every piece his mouth manages to reach, kissing and kissing him until Yuri’s chest is flushed and glistening from the watery signature of Otabek’s tongue. Their pace speeding up.  
Yuri bites behind his lip, fingers digging deeper into Otabek’s back.  
“Go-“ he needs more. “ _Harder-_ ”

Otabek pulls himself up, adjusting, and because he’s nothing if not an actual fucking saint, complies. His ass pushing deeper, his dick sliding faster, looking down, drinking in the loss of control over Yuri’s face and voice. Yuri lifts a hand to Otabek’s cheek, trailing his fingers up across Otabek’s lips as Otabek fucks him, both of them falling further into bliss. 

Otabek takes one of Yuri’s fingers between his lips, closes his eyes like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had, and sucks. 

Yuri whines, staring painfully transfixed. His eyes watering as Otabek pumps into him harder. His tongue swirling and sucking over Yuri’s fingers. The juices of his mouth spilling down.

Yuri slams his head back into the pillow.  
“ _Oh fuck-_ “ keeping one hand up for Otabek’s mouth to consume he brings the other down to his own painfully hard cock and begins to stroke. The burning waves of pleasure from Otabek pumping into him and the feeling of Otabek’s tongue and lips feverishly soaking his hand, between his fingers, everywhere, imagining Otabek doing everything he’s doing with his mouth to his cock, all while Otabek hits against the growing ache inside him, Yuri let’s a moan drive up and out the open tunnel of his throat, head titled all the way back, feeling himself near the precipice of falling apart. 

Otabek pulls himself off of Yuri’s fingers and adjusts so he can take over Yuri’s cock with his own hand. Then he snaps his hips, causing Yuri’s mouth to fall open and his eyes to roll back.  
The bed rocks into the wall. Yuri’s knees pull further back until Otabek braces one of Yuri’s legs over his shoulder to reach even deeper. Otabek’s strong fist sliding over Yuri’s shaft 

“Fuck- _mmm_ \- you, _Yes_ “ Yuri grips into the sheets, Otabek’s dick dragging over that impossible fucking spot inside of him. Light building and filling up his body in bright growing pulses.  
They’re drowning deeper and deeper in each other’s moans, their movements turning from controlled obsession to animalistic need, their bodies taking over, their hands and mouths moving on their own, their spines curving with their hips pumping. 

“ _Yuri-_ “ Otabek struggles to get it out, quickly swallowing to catch his breath. His hips pumping like they’ve always meant to. His ass perfect and flexing with every thrust. 

Yuri’s voice constricts every time he’s pushed back against the headboard, the space behind his eyes being enveloped with light.  
“I’m- _mm_ -“

Otabek’s twists his wrist and strokes fast, all in time with his own hips snapping deep between Yuri’s legs.

It pulls Yuri down entirely-  
He falls into the light.  
He cries. His back arching, trembling with each wave as he spills onto his own stomach, spilling into Otabek’s firm unrelenting hand.  
Fresh colors burn so bright in Yuri’s eyes. He smiles, feeling like the softest warmest blanket is tucking over his skin.  
And it’s not enough. It won’t be enough. Not until Otabek breaks with him.

He wraps a free leg around Otabek’s waist and grinds himself into him. Fucking himself needy up onto Otabek’s dick, matching his pace.  
Otabek’s eyes shut and a growing ragged breath builds in his chest. 

Yuri’s eyes take him in, the sweat dripping off his body, his chest, his stomach, “ _You_ \- you are so _fucking_ hot, Otabek-“, Yuri’s hands smooth down against his back, slick from sweat, and he sees the hint of Otabek’s perfectly round muscular ass pumping into him and nearly lets himself die from it. “ _Jesus Christ-_ “ Yuri’s head falls back to the pillow, his brain _screaming_. All of it. His leg squeezes around Otabek and he snaps his hips hard. “I’ve wanted you _so fucking_ much-“ he whines, rolling his hips up with every thrust, “I want you _so fucking much_ \- All the time-“

“Yuri-“

“wanted you to pump into me- _fuck me_ \- just like this- all I’ve been doing is coming to you- I’ve been coming to for so _fucking_ long, Otabek, thinking about you coming in me- _filling me_ , giving me _everything_ -“ Yuri moans long, scratching down his back, digging his nails into his ass. Otabek buries his head into Yuri’s shoulder, a heavy gasping breath escaping him as his hips lose all semblance of control- _shaking_ the earth-

Otabek quakes. Shaking from his core, melting over Yuri’s body, breath hitching on every movement, his strength spilling out from under him, emptying entirely.  
Yuri closes his eyes, continuing to clench him. Needing to pull every last drop out of him. Memorizing every last pleasurable shudder breaking through Otabek’s body. 

They stay like this. Still and exhausted until Otabek’s breathing stabilizes, until his body is no longer twitching, Yuri’s arms wrapped around him, Otabek’s lips at his neck but not quite kissing.  
They don’t move until they have to. 

Otabek limply manages to pull himself out, then pushes himself up, walking over to the bathroom to discard the condom. 

The space inside Yuri now weirdly empty and alone.  
_Strange_  
It never felt alone before. 

He stares up at the ceiling, trying to bring himself back into reality but clinging too desperately to the living dream he just got to live in.  
_They fucked._  
Otabek and him fucked.  
They told each other they loved each other and they fucked.  
His eyes gloss over.  
He doesn’t even fight it. 

Otabek walks back with a washcloth at his side. Still perfect. Here and perfect. He sits down on the edge of the bed and wipes up the spilled come on Yuri’s stomach. Otabek is here cleaning come off Yuri’s stomach. Cleaning him carefully, gingerly, his eyes softly staring at the porcelain skin stretched out over Yuri’s lean muscular abdomen. 

“Tell me if I missed a spot-” He asks, his eyes moving all around them. 

Yuri shakes his head, not even caring if there was more somewhere, just wanting Otabek back in bed with him. Otabek goes to stand up again, probably to return the dirtied washcloth to the bathroom but Yuri grips his arm, tugging him to come back to bed instead. Otabek smiles, and throws the washcloth to the far end of the room before leaning back down, stretching himself out and taking Yuri into his arms, kissing him deep and sweet. 

Yuri nuzzles his face into Otabek’s neck and releases a sigh so fucking happy he didn’t know he was capable of making it. 

“Mm.” Otabek hums into Yuri’s hair, inhaling.

Yuri pulls back, fingers stroking his cheek.  
Reality was beginning to sink in more and more for him. The impending dread of when they were no longer here, together, and what that would mean. “Otabek.” His fingers pause at his cheek, “ _What_ \- what happens now?”

Otabek stares back, the same softness in his eyes, clearly understanding the depth of what Yuri had just asked, “We could be together?” Otabek answers lightly, wanting confirmation from Yuri. 

Yuri smiles and tries to hold back as much as he can but his dumb grin completely overtakes his face. He feels stupid. But he nods anyway, burying his face back into Otabek’s neck to hide, both of them kissing the skin their lips are pressed into.  
Otabek pinches his lower back. 

Yuri settles, his arms stretched out across Otabek’s chest. “When are you leaving?”

Otabek makes a disappointed sound, “Tomorrow, late morning.”

“Early morning for me.” Yuri rolls off and stares up at the ceiling, feeling like he’s been soaking in a tub of water that was progressively getting colder and colder. “Well. _Fuck._ ”

A storm is brewing grey clouds at his chest. A distant sound of thunder rumbles. He can feel Otabek’s eyes on him. 

“Yuri-“

“It’s gonna be what, 2 months?” It was weeks on weeks on weeks until the fucking Olympics of all god damned things. After tonight they wouldn’t see each other for 2 months.  
A new kind of pain fills Yuri’s chest-

“Yuri-“

Yuri’s chews into his own lip, his eyes dampening, but he braves it to turn and look at him.

Otabek graces his cheek. “You won’t believe this- the most _incredible_ thing happened to me tonight- Yuri Plisetsky _begged_ to take me in his mouth-“

Yuri turns away laughing, squirming to get away, but Otabek holds him back, rolling to his side, halfway over him, kissing at his ear whispering hotly against the shell, “No, I’m serious. He _begged me on his knees_ —“

Yuri squirms and reaches back to grab a tight mound of Otabek’s ass. “Fuck off.”

Otabek grins, falling back and fingers trailing down Yuri’s spine. 

Yuri turns over and pushes his hair to the side, resting his chin on Otabek’s chest.  
“You’re the one who almost blew it all-“

Otabek smirks, nodding entirely unashamed, raking his fingers through Yuri’s hair, admiring him, “I’ve been a lifelong fan.”

“Seriously, Otabek I’m so fucking tired but if I go to sleep the minute I wake up we’re gonna both be gone-“

Otabek shakes his head, “Not gone. We have video. You could even message me back if you wanted to now.” He smiles down at him, ticking a finger under Yuri’s chin. 

“Yeah.” Yuri gives a light huff and sits up, turning to face forward. There’s no way either of them will be able to leave their rinks any time soon. 

_Fucking Olympics._

Yuri’s set to hold his title as one of the few to ever be a two time gold medalist. 

“We’ve lasted longer, Yuri.” Otabek reminds him from behind. 

Yuri nods with a grimace, remembering how awful that time was. Wondering if this will be worse because now he knows... he knows what it’s like to have Otabek next to him. He’s had a taste now. He knows what it’s like when Otabek holds him, kisses him, smiles into his mouth, enters him, what he looks like naked, what he looks like breaking apart above him.  
Yuri snaps his head to the side, trying to shake off his feelings. The idea of having to rely on a small pixelated screen almost seems crueler than not seeing him at all. Like it’s mocking him. Showing him what he has but can’t touch.  
Kind of like why he stopped talking to Otabek in the first place. For Yuri, their friendship turned into a glass screen between them, keeping him from ever being able to have what he wanted. Mocking him. Taunting him. He let it drive him further into a place where he could no longer decipher between himself verse the failed version of himself everyone wanted him to be. Because Otabek was always the one who made him feel closest to himself. Like maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. But without Otabek...

He looks back. Otabek is staring up at him with eyes clearly tired but overflowing with- care. Love. Everything. 

It’s impossible for Yuri not to feel that healing warmth in his chest. Just looking at him is like walking through some made-up enchanted spring, feeling all the cuts and bruises below the surface evaporate into nothing.  
Yuri feels colors and seasons and sensations and desires he hasn’t felt in years. He feels like a real living thing.  
At least for a few more hours. 

_Ugh._  
He’s so fucking tired.  
“Okay. I can’t believe I’m saying this but we’ll sleep. With the condition that we set an alarm. So we can cum one more time before being rushed off to airport security.”  
Otabek agrees, pulling him down with a sleepy smile.  
Yuri sighs into his chest.  
It really is _so warm_.  
Otabek brings the comforter over them with a caring hand, kissing the top of Yuri’s head, while the inside of it quiets to a soft hum, pulling him fast into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Part I: 5. Kissing Palms

**=====**

**Nagoya, Japan  
Morning After Grand Prix Banquet  
59 Days until the Winter Olympics ******

********

****

...  


A pounding knock on the door wakes him up. Yuri curses and pushes himself up, feeling something hard but also... soft? under his hand. 

_Oh  
Right  
Ha  
_

“Yuri! You've got 20 minutes. There’s traffic.”

Slowly, Yuri brings his hand up from Otabek’s pectoral, causing Otabek to stir, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees Yuri looking down at him he breaks out into a warm sleepy smile.

 _“Fuck-_ “ Yuri’s heart just melted clean out his body.

“Yuri!” Yakov yells.

“Yeah I’m awake! Got it!” Yuri blinks, chest beating way too fast. He doesn’t want to go. They slept through the alarm.  
Did they even actually make one?  
_Fuck._  
And Otabek. Otabek is here. In his bed. _They-_  
Fucked. They fucked last night. This morning. Who fucking knows. Time stopped for all Yuri knew. They’re together.  
_Oh wow_  
Otabek asked that they be together and now they’re together.  
They love each other. And they’re together. They’re together. Otabek wants him. Otabek... loves him. Wants to be with him-  
_Otabek_  
Is his? _Actually_ his? _That_ Otabek? This one?  
Yes  
But  
“No no no no-“ Yuri pushes his head in his hands. “Fuck.” He breathes. 

He doesn’t want to go.  
It’s too soon. 

Otabek sits up, peeling Yuri’s hands away from his face, “Mm-“ he leans in and kisses him, fingers grazing his cheek. “Morning.” He smiles against Yuri’s mouth, “It’s not a dream. You’re really here, Yuri...”

Yuri closes his eyes and kisses back. Letting himself fall because it’s impossible not to. Otabek is impossible not to-  
“ _Fuck_ , no, I have to get ready-“

Otabek nods, “Mm hmm-“ kissing his cheek, his neck, Yuri closes his eyes again slumping against his lips, it feels—

He sits back up. “No- _fuck!_ This is such fucking garbage. You're here, _you’re_ \- You’re in my fucking bed- _oh my god._ ” Yuri whimpers, “Otabek. You’re naked-“ he groans watching Otabek pull the covers off himself. “so _fucking_ naked.”

Otabek smirks with a wink and leans down to nip at Yuri’s shoulder.  


_Fuck it_  
Yakov said 20 minutes. 

Yuri pulls back, eyes shifting to something dangerous, then dives down, swallowing Otabek’s dick deep into his mouth. 

“ _Oh shhh—_ Yuri!” Otabek gasps in shock, bracing his hands on Yuri’s head. 

Yuri slides his body all the way down, nestling between Otabek’s legs, Otabek hardening fast. Yuri happily takes the cue, bobbing and pausing to lap his tongue over the head, “Don't hold back. I have to catch a flight.” He breathes it out and smiles up at Otabek’s face, winking back at from before then taking him in again. Otabek’s cock now fully hard and leaking in his mouth. 

“Yuri-“ Otabek moans, struggling to pull in air, gasping at every inhale, clearly not prepared for this. “ _God_ , Yuri-“  
Yuri licks frantically, his tongue manically swirling and lapping every square inch of skin in his mouth. His cheeks suck in more. He bobs quickly. It’s bullshit. He doesn’t want to rush but- _fuck_.  
It’s better than not ever blowing him before 2 months.

He bobs faster. His hand gripping at the base and lips following closely as he wetly slides them up and down.  
“ _Yuri-_ “ Otabek says it like it hurts. Like the sudden tidlewave of pleasure enveloping him is paining him. He rakes his fingers through Yuri’s hair.  
Yuri hums happily over his cock, vibrating and sucking and then hungrily starts to sink lower, moving his own hand out of the way to take him in entirely. He soothes the back of his throat to relax, and he nearly chokes on his own pleasure remembering how good it felt to have Otabek in him last night- pressing in him-

Otabek sighs with a moan, his head titled back. “ _Ah-_ “  
Yuri could die from it. That’ll be the sound he’ll never stop replaying. He used to imagine it. Imagine being the reason Otabek would make that exact fucking sound- from Yuri’s mouth- _devouring_ him...

He moans at the memory overlapping with reality, freely bobbing, coating Otabek’s dick with the warmth of his mouth. 

“ _God_ \- Yuri- I’m-“

Yuri goes faster. His fingers moving to Otabek’s balls, massaging them with his hot strokes. 

“ _Ah-_ “  
Yuri sinks all the way again and opens his throat. Welcoming the come filling him- fresh over his tongue. Otabek shudders, his cock twitching inside Yuri’s mouth.  
_Still perfect._

Yuri pulls up, lapping at everything as he pops off.  
Otabek cradles his head and leans in, kissing him desperately, still breathing like he’s shocked it happened at all.  
His hand snakes down between Yuri’s legs and Yuri stops him, smiling mournfully, “ _Mm_ \- Yeah. Sorry. No time.”

Otabek’s eyes go wide and he starts shaking his head. “What. No, wait-“

Yuri shrugs and gets up moving to his suitcase, hurriedly making his way around the hotel room, dropping in his strewn about belongings-  
“Yuri-“

Yuri pretends he can’t hear, pulling out underwear and a shirt and a pair of loose joggers. Otabek snakes a hand around his waist, “No. Yuri. You can’t- I have to-“

Yuri pulls his arm off and twists around to face him, “There’s literally no time, Otabek. Really. It’s good.” He runs his fingers through Otabek’s hair sadly, “I wanted to get you off. I knew there wouldn’t be time for both of-“

Otabek stops him with an almost violent kiss, his hands gripping darker bruises into his hips. Yuri can’t help it- he grins, biting into Otabek’s lip. This is not real. It’s impossible. Otabek Altin is so fucking needy. Needy for him. Like he’ll die if... _Jesus_ , it’s impossible not to just-  
Otabek wraps a warm fist around Yuri’s still semi-hard cock from before. And because Yuri’s self-control can’t exist under Otabek grip or Otabek’s... anything, his dick fills. Stiffens and arches for more.  
Yuri sighs, and leans his head down on Otabek’s shoulder. 

_Sorry Yakov_

Otabek starts stroking, kissing his ear.  
“How much time?” He breathes.

Yuri grimaces, holding him close.  
“Gotta be out that door in 8 minutes.”

Otabek nods, nuzzling his face to look at him and kisses it. “I can’t let you go until you come, Yuri-”  
Yuri stares at him, wordless and surrendering. He nods, a soft smile thawing over his face as he falls more against him. Biting his shoulder.

Otabek pulls him toward the bed, where he reaches for the lube still sitting on the nightstand. “This is _not_ what I had envisioned but-“ Otabek laughs lightly to himself, resolving with what he has, quickly coating his hand and Yuri’s dick in lube, continuing to stroke. “Feeling you-” Otabek kisses his forehead, “-is enough,” pressing close, their bodies naked and leaning on each other. Yuri’s hand slides down Otabek’s back and grips at his ass, falling more into the warmth of Otabek’s fist. 

Otabek strokes faster, murmuring into his ear, “ _I like_ \- I like so many new things now, Yuri,” His lips press into the shell of Yuri’s ear and he breathes out hot, the hair on Yuri’s neck and arms standing up, his skin tingling, “When you shake like this-“ Yuri’s grips deeper into Otabek’s ass, “ _when you-_ when you ask for more“ he kisses at Yuri’s hair, “ _when you take me in your mouth_ -“ Otabek’s grip tightens, stroking faster against Yuri’s thrusts.

Yuri groans, letting himself build fast, not tempering anything, and because it’s Otabek, it isn’t difficult.  
Otabek’s hand, Otabek’s body, his ass, his breath, his words, telling he wants him- it’s _really, really_ not difficult. It’s been such a long fucking time... starving for him- coming to him...  
Yuri clenches his teeth, already nearing the edge.  
Otabek twists his wrist and groans back into his ear

Yuri’s legs begin to shake.  
“ _Otabek-_ “

“Yuri-“

“ _I-_ “

“Mm-“

“ _Otabek- I’m-_ “

Otabek speeds, his thumb rubbing against the head of Yuri’s cock every time he strokes back down. 

“ _Yes-_ “

Otabek nods, sucking hard at the edge of his ear, “Mm-“

Yuri stifles a sob and shudders against Otabek’s hand, releasing onto his stomach.  
Panting, Yuri braces against Otabek’s hips. Still quaking but managing to hold himself up.  
Otabek pumps the last out, letting it ooze down his fingers. He smiles and leans in to kiss him. 

Another fucking knock at the door.  
“God dammit- YEAH, FUCKING GOT IT, ALMOST READY!” Yuri lies and turns back to Otabek, pleadingly. “ _I_ \- I have to-“  
Otabek nods smiling against his mouth before breaking away and handing him tissues.  
Hurriedly, Yuri wipes himself and starts throwing shit into his bag. Pulling on the clothes he threw out for himself.  
Otabek hands him the items he had in the bathroom, already having helpfully zipped them up in his toiletry bag. Yuri unplugs any chargers and throws them into his backpack. 

“ _No_. Absolutely not,” Yuri points and stops Otabek in the middle of putting his shirt back on. “I- no. Don’t. I want it.”  
Otabek stands frozen and then understands, a grin tugging on his lips as he slowly peels it back off his shoulders and hands it over to him. Yuri folds it, glaring slightly, absently hugging it his arms while he throws more shit in his suitcase. 

Otabek watches still grinning sheepishly and then motions over to the bed, “I _was_ going to quietly burrow the one you left on the other side of the bed but I guess I don’t have to keep that a secret anymore.” 

“Huh? _Oh!_ Yeah. Take it.” Yuri had completely forgotten about that shirt. 

“Yuri I-“

Another knock. “Yuri! 2 minutes!”

“FINE!” Yuri wants to scream but Otabek puts a hand on his shoulder, instantly soothing him. “Oh wait. Do you need another shirt to get out of here? I have-“

“It’s okay. I’ll put yours on to get to my room. It’s not far.”

Yuri nods, entirely overwhelmed by everything moving way too fucking fast for him to really comprehend _anything_. 

“Yuri-“

Yuri twists his head to plant a kiss on the back of Otabek’s hand at his shoulder and Otabek brings it up to his lips to kiss the same spot.  
“No. Otabek that’s stupid. Just kiss me, I’m right here.”

Otabek grins and does, wrapping his arms around him.  
“I love you.” Otabek breathes it out into his temple. 

“ _I_ \- I love you. I really can’t believe- _fuck_. This is _insane_.”  
They share a quick smile but Yuri breaks it, giving a sad sigh as he bends down to zip up his suitcase then unconsciously placing Otabek’s shirt in his bag with more care than he’s ever shown any of his other possessions.  
“Shit. I haven’t even pissed.”

Otabek laughs. “Go!”

Yuri runs to the bathroom, anticipating the certain knock awaiting him as soon as he enters the bathroom. 

“Yuri! Now!” Yakov barks.

“I’M FUCKING PEEING!”  
Yuri quickly washes his hands and runs back to sling his backpack over and pull his suitcase by his side. 

Another knock. 

“God _dammit_ -“ he turns to Otabek and pulls him into searing kiss. Their tongues wrapping and tasting each other one last time.  


Yuri breaks off, breathless, “I’m- gonna text and, _fuck, I_ \- oh _wow_ , Otabek, I gotta tell you I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with all this-“

“It’s okay, Yuri. Text. Please.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

“You look beautiful.”

“ _Hoooow_ could that even be poss- okay. Doesn’t fucking matter. I’m going.”

“Mm.”

“Bye.”  
Yuri turns knowing he can’t turn back but Otabek reaches for his hand one more time. Yuri looks over his shoulder to see him opening his fingers and planting a kiss on his open palm. He smiles then releases it, giving a final warm look of goodbye and moving out of sight of the door. 

Yuri isn’t sure how but he manages to push down the urge to pull Otabek close, instead forcing himself to fling the door open, trading in Otabek’s warm adoring smile for Yakov’s flat morning scowl.  
“We’re late Yuri, come. We’ll need to rush you through the lobby.”

**=======**

...  


Yuri and his team exit through the hotel lobby instead of the less crowded back one. They thought it’d be good for him to give a final goodbye to the fans that had repeatedly circled the outside entrance every morning and any time he came and went. Usually he can spend more time but due to time constraints this time he’ll have to rush. 

Yuri smiles and greets them. Some local. Some having flown in for the competition. He signs autographs and agrees to selfies, holding strangers phones for them. Graciously saying thank you to every hyperbolic compliment. He answers a few questions from journalists regarding his trip and how he felt the competition went. His answers calm and humble. Finishing up he poses for some last photos with a couple children who came carrying small cat stuffed animals for him. After kneeling down and accepting their gifts he steps up to the SUV pulled up and waiting at the entrance. He turns to wave goodbye one last time. 

Cameras flash, phones held up, people cheer. 

Just before he turns away his eye catches a familiar silhouette through the lobby windows. He recognizes the jacket and the stance. Otabek looks on at him through the glass. He must have rushed down after they had said goodbye so he could see Yuri off. 

Yuri’s heart swells so much he has to find a way to somehow keep it from bursting. 

Because he has to, Yuri breaks their gaze and smiles even wider back at the crowd. Seamlessly, he takes the hand that Otabek had been holding moments before, the one Otabek had pressed one final kiss to and in front of the cheering crowd Yuri puts his lips to his palm, kissing it and using it to wave goodbye to everyone. 

The crowd sees nothing.  
Just Yuri planting a kiss and sharing it with them. They cheers even get louder when he does it.  
It’s fitting. 

In that moment Yuri almost doesn’t mind the crowd. Even if they think it was for them.  
As long as Otabek knows.


	6. Part II: 1. This is Fine (1/2)

**=======**

**Somewhere 35,000ft Up in the Sky Between Nagoya, Japan and St. Petersburg Russia  
59 Days until the Winter Olympics **

****

****

...  


> Hi 

OA  
| Hi  
| :)

Yuri reclines back in his seat, hugging his bag to his chest, staring dumbly at his phone.  
It’s stupid but he honestly doesn’t know what else to write. The messages before these are from over half a year ago giving a curt congratulations to Otabek winning the 4 Continents  
It’s misleading, Yuri thinks. This message thread represents none of the unbearable time between dull infinite heartache to- now. Grey clouds to sliding down bright glittering rainbow after bright glittering rainbow. 

Yuri hugs his bag closer, Otabek’s shirt nestled inside. He’d like to take it out and smother his face in it but... he assumes the other passengers would be uncomfortable if he started grinding and smothering his face into some random shirt he refuses to let go of. 

_Oh._ That reminds him-

> did you tell anyone yet?

| No

> ok good  
> i don’t think we should

| Okay

> ...  
> right?  
Yuri bites nervously at the inside of his bottom lip, watching the typing status linger and go away a few times. 

| I think that makes sense  
| For now  
| :)  
| Look  
Otabek sends a photo he just took of Yuri’s face on a banner promoting the Grand Prix that just ended.  
| That’s you

Yuri buries his mouth into the top of his bag. He opens up his photo library and browses, selecting 10 recentish shots he’s taken of ads with Otabek in them and sends them over.  
> u have the same face in all of these, why?

| Yes. I’m very versatile

> no, opposite  
> this  
Yuri resends the photo of Otabek’s face on a bus, in profile, looking pissed off while sweating.  
> and this  
Yuri sends a photo of a magazine ad that has Otabek’s full upper half, his hand in his pocket pointedly showing off a giant obnoxious watch on his wrist. His face in profile, looking pissed off in formal business wear.  
> = are same =

| I disagree. Those are opposite expressions

Yuri crops the images so it’s just Otabek’s mean face and resends them.  
> same

Otabek sends them back with a half-assed drawn circle around both his mouths.  
| See  
| One is happy. One is mad.

Yuri grins red into his bag.  
> no  
> but it’s ok  
> even tho it’s the same face it’s a good face

| I like yours 

Yuri bites into the zipper of his bag, his tongue twisting over it. The growing ache at the pit of his stomach reminding him how difficult this was all going to be. All of it. It feels so unnatural for him. He notices his knee bouncing. He looks across the aisle to see if Yakov noticed since it always used to drive him crazy before Yuri got a handle over it in public settings.  
Yakov doesn’t notice anything. He’s drinking coffee, engrossed in his made-of-actual-paper newspaper. Because he’s _old_. 

Yuri goes back to his phone, releasing the zipper of his bag from between his teeth. He hovers over the keyboard but doesn’t write anything and it doesn’t matter because Otabek is already typing something else anyway-

| Seat mate  
Otabek sends a photo of the passenger across from him. It’s a fluffy white and black cat in a pet carrier duffel bag, it’s head poking out, looking maybe slightly drugged. 

> name? 

| Oh no  
| Yuri 

> ??

| I’ve been informed that her name is Bon-Bon

> i see  
> sounds like it’s time to steal that fucking cat, Otabek

| She’s drooling

> and you’re stealing her to give to me now

| She likes blueberry yogurt 

Yuri has this weird urge to throw his phone down on the floor.  
He nearly laughs, clenching, recognizing how insane that is since he’s getting text messages about a cat that likes blueberry yogurt but-  
It’s cause he doesn’t know what to do with all of it. It’s fucking Day 1- How the fuck was he gonna last 2 months.... and how could someone with the facial expression variety of a turtle be this fucking-  
Yuri sighs.  
_Ugh._  
_Sweet._  
Otabek is sweet.  
Yuri tries to counter it, thinking maybe it’ll help— He remembers the way Otabek bit into him. _Yes_. Snapped his hips and impaled him over and over-  
_Ha_  
That was fucking stupid. Now he’s just getting hard.  
_Frustrated and hard._  
Maybe that should be his signature for the next 2 fucking months. _Shit_. Probably longer.  
Because even after 2 months then what? More months? Less? Maybe they see each other for a day or two here and there? Till when? Years go by?

Yuri catches his breath in his throat and sucks down the worry he’s had crawling up him since last night after they had sex. It’s a lingering throb, bigger than the ghost of Otabek’s dick filling him.  
It’s the fear that he can’t actually do this.  
He knows himself.  
The worry in him knows too. It _knows_ him. It knows everything about Yuri. It knows what he is and isn’t.  
It tells him that he’s occupied now but it’ll catch up to him soon- it’s the part of him that doesn’t suit any of this.  
Both Yuri and his worry know- Yuri is not meant for distance.  
He knows it in his bones.  
And when Otabek is _so_ -  
Everything. It just makes it more defined.

As of last night, it’s like a new scream has been born in his throat. And every time he replays a memory. Every time Otabek sends him something written and drenched with his own care and love- it pulses. 

Yuri plays the video Otabek just sent him of Bon-Bon lapping at the top of a blueberry yogurt lid. 

| She fell asleep  
| :(  
| With her tongue sticking out  
| :)

_Fucking Christ._


	7. Part II: 1. This is Fine (2/2)

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
38 Days to the Winter Olympics **

****

****

...  


“Hey!” Otabek answers immediately, warmth and happiness shining through his voice, fully unaware that Yuri is a fucking mess, sitting on the tiles of a bathroom, eyes swollen, nose red. “I was just thinking about you.”

Yuri closes his eyes, stinging from the comfort Otabek’s voice brings him. He wants to touch him. To hold him. And he can’t. He fucking can’t.  
“Hey.” He knows his voice sounds off, like maybe he’s been crying in a bathroom 20 straight minutes.

“Yuri?”

“I miss you.”

Otabek breathes against the phone, a long pause before he says anything. “I miss you too.”  
The way Otabek says it is so different from Yuri. He says it like it’s a sad fact of life whereas Yuri says it like he’s come ill with something and needs immediate medical attention. “Did something happen, Yuri?”

I mean _sure._ Things happen all the time. It’s Yuri. It’s Yuri’s life.  
What thing sounds the most deserving of crying in a bathroom? His family? His coaches? His work expectations? Copious online criticism? His fans obsession with a person who doesn’t actually exist? His country’s pride hanging on his shoulders?  
Or was it that all of those things happen constantly and the only thing that makes it better is someone who he can’t physically be with?  
Who doesn’t even _try to_ -

Yuri grits his teeth.  
Victor’s words at dinner now echoing mockingly in his head.  
_Fucking Victor_  
Victor and his incessant fawning over Yuuri. Tonight he was reminiscing about when they first met. How he knew _right away_ , knew immediately how he wanted to be near him, _always_. How he would have done _anything_ to be with him. How they both instantly agreed that they would figure out a way to be together. Figured out a way they would _never_ have to be apart. The _pain_ they both felt at being away from each other for a single day let alone weeks. 

The way they both talked about it. The joint agony-

It’s so fucking stupid.  
Victor obviously had no idea how piercing it would be for Yuri to hear those words right now  
He hates that he’s crying. All because of that.  
As if Victor and Katsuki are the blueprint of what everyone wants  
What he wants  
_As if_ -  
He chokes on his own spit, coughing into the phone.

“Yuri?”

Yuri slumps lower against the tile, defeated. It is what he wants. If he’s being honest with himself  
_Actually_ honest. It is.  
It’s been building and building.  
He wants what they were talking about. He wants that same acknowledgement. The same determination. Because he’s ready. He’s _fucking ready_. If Otabek told him right now, _let’s just go somewhere, let’s run_ , Well, _yeah, of course,_ fuck em all-  
Yuri would  
Even if Otabek would just sound the _tiniest_ bit as in pain as Yuri feels-

And Yuri knows Otabek is perfect. Has always been perfect. It’s Yuri whose the broken one. He’s not ignorant enough to believe he’s actually right about _any_ of this. Yuri knows this is simply himself being too much again. Too needy. Too reactive.  
And right now he’s reacting to the rage he feels when he thinks about his own wants being shaped by two people whose relationship he’s only ever rolled his eyes at and overall finds ridiculous.  
Yuri. Envious. Of them?  
_Fuck_  
Yes. Devastatingly fucking envious.

“Otabek?“

“Hm?”

Yuri tries not to crack his voice but it’s hopeless, “You said we would talk about it. The distance.”

Silence.

Yuri doesn’t want to fill the silence with his most insecure thoughts but he doesn’t know what else to do because they’re screaming inside his head. “Do you ever think about it? About what we could do? Because- I-“ He huffs, “I think this might actually be killing me and I don’t know how-“ He stops when he hears a long sad exhale on the other end. It’s like a dagger to Yuri’s heart. “Otabek,” Yuri steadies his voice, pleading, “Just fucking tell me.”

Otabek never ever talks about how far away they are. Like he’s purposefully avoiding it. Like there’s something else he doesn’t want to say- he usually just deters it to something light or an adoring comment. Yuri hears Otabek’s throat hesitate, like he’s getting ready for something. Something bad.  
“Yuri, I don’t know. It’s hard for me to—“

Yuri ends the call.

He knows it’s childish. That he should have listened. How impossible of a subject it is.  
But he’s so angry. At so many things. And his heart hurts so fucking much. He’s angry, and lonely, and selfish. _So so_ selfish.  
His phone starts vibrating in his hand. Otabek’s name and photo flash on screen, calling him. He doesn’t even think about it, just pushes it to voicemail.  
Even with all the parts of his face hurting, he stares forward, unwavering.

...  


**=======**

...  


He doesn’t respond to Otabek’s texts.  
He doesn’t call back after the voicemails Otabek leaves. Doesn’t even listen to them.  
Doesn’t answer the video calls. The phone calls.  
He might as well not even have a phone. 

Instead he surrounds himself entirely in his profession. In his commitments. He’s gone full android. Even having to remind himself to blink in order to seem more human. When he gets home at night he’ll lay on his back, and stare up at the ceiling till his eyes get too tired. Which, with the amount of training he’s been doing, doesn’t take long. 

The only person whose noticed is Yuuri, but Yuuri knows Yuri won’t say shit to him. So instead they’ve just silently started working longer hours. Working on things that aren’t even related to his current program. Simply trying different choreography and pushing his body till he’s too tired to move or think. Work-wise it’s great. He even had a training session where Yakov didn’t have any notes. No side mumblings. No scowls. Gave a grunt when it was finished and excused him for the day. 

_Sure._  
This was fine. Yuri’s _fine_. He’s doing what he has to do right now. Maybe he’ll figure shit out later.  
Because what he _has_ to do is train. He has to prep for the European Championships, then this year’s Olympics, and then World’s.  
He also has all of his outside commitments. Meetings. Brand rep. Dinners. Signing autographs. Thanking and thanking and thanking and thanking. 

These are things he _has_ to do.  
And these things can’t happen if he’s in the state he was in before.  
So he’s doing what it is he has to.  
It’s just survival.  
Simple survival. 

I mean, _sure_.  
Maybe he’s turned off half his brain. Can’t risk even scrolling mindlessly on his phone. Even his social media has gone noticeably quiet save for some pre-planned posts his team requested. But he just can’t afford to look there right now. Everything has turned into a very thin, very tight wire, but he’s found a way to be steady on it.  
He can do it. 

He’s had a couple moments where he almost tripped. Where he was very close to writing Otabek back. Playing one of the many voicemails. Glancing at the transcript. But he didn’t.  
He’s been very very close though.  
Like recently, when he saw a photo of a bear that reminded him so much of Otabek. Same fucking eyes. He was going to text it and tell him it looked like him.  
But he couldn’t.  
He didn’t.  
And it’s fine.  
He resisted and that’s what matters.  
He’s thankful because when he gets the urge his eyes start immediately welling up, like a helpful warning. Like they’re reminding him how he might never get up again if he opens back up that communication- at least right now.  
So he doesn’t.  
And yes, he’s fine. 

...  


**=======**

...  


Yuri wins gold at the European Championships.  
An interviewer asks him what was going through his mind before giving such a physically demanding program.  
“Just- how this will always be the most important thing to me. Being here.”


	8. Part II: 2. Not Fine

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway **

...  


The Olympics, from what Yuri remembers last time, feel like being trapped in an elevator and then- whatever the opposite of that would be. Like a fucking field or something. The pressure is too exhausting, too physically demanding, and too unbalanced by competitive natures. It chokes the air out.  
But once the respective competition ends, everything turns into an all inclusive, all-lasting, drink-till-you’re-stupid-a-thon. A place for gods to be amongst each other.  
The last time Yuri was was here he simultaneously hated it and then at some point never wanted it to end.  
This time though, he doesn’t have the mental resources to dread, hate, or look forward to anything. 

“ **Otabek! Otabek! Will you-!** ”

Yuri whips his head back, peering through the clear double doors leading out from the lobby.  
2 months and there he is.  
Like he’s getting kicked in the fucking kidney.  
Otabek is the same.  
He is always the same.  
Happily greeting fans who’d been waiting outside. Bowing his head in thanks and holding their phones out for photos. 

Yuri grips tight into the strap of his bag, his knuckles going bone white. Silently, he dares Otabek to see him.  
He does  
For the briefest second, Yuri’s heart stops, until Otabek looks away like it’s nothing, smiling at another group of fans and cheerfully agreeing to talk to one of their family members on the phone.

 _Wow_.  
_Ha._

It sucks.  
_But okay_ , Yuri gets it.  
And knows he can do it too.  
Better even.  
He doesn’t look back.

...  


**=======  
**

****

****

...  


They’ve been there almost a week.  
Otabek doesn’t wait for him.  
Doesn’t linger after training.  
Not that Yuri expected him to. It’s just.. _interesting_.  
The closest they physically get is tonight at this superficial dinner reserved for skating competitors. While he and Otabek aren’t sitting next to each other they are close enough to be in each other’s peripherals.  
Not that Otabek even noticed. 

Someone is asking Yuri about a choreography choice from a few years back. He answers cooly, tempering his energy reserves, not wanting to dip in too much.  
When his eye happens to glance up it catches Otabek listening thoughtfully to a young woman seated next to him.  
Her eyes are glued on Otabek’s face. Otabek is speaking with that warm signature smile back to her. Answering questions and saying things that make her laugh.  
She laughs like she’s trying to hold back something. Like she’s trying to hold back the flush in her cheeks and feelings from bubbling up. Holding back on looking too obvious.  
Yuri sees it. He sees it and then he narrows in to see her pupils blown wide. 

_No.  
Nope._  
It’s a fast switch.  
_Absolutely fucking not._

What was once calm and untouched is now being drenched in a downpour. 

After having turned off every emotion he has these past 6 weeks, Yuri feels a surge of them flood through his everything. Blood speeds through his chest, into his limbs, his fingers, his scalp. _Hell_. He can feel it in his fucking ears. 

His leg starts jittering under the table. 

He’d been doing so well too. Blocking everything out. Protecting himself. His heart. His mind. Focused solely on his skating. Even finding new strategies to temper his energy at these _vapid_ social gatherings. 

She gets so enamored by something Otabek says she puts her hand over his. 

Yuri bumps against the table, those around him look up. He covers it by pushing his chair out to stand. He gives a cool smile.  
“Excuse me,” pardoning himself he snakes his way towards the kitchens. 

The owner had let him and a few others use the back entrance when they arrived in order to bypass spectators outside.  
He makes quick time through the heat and clamor, pushing open the steel door in the back, then stepping out into the cold outdoor air of a dirtied backstreet. 

He smoothes a hand through his hair and holds it.  
“ _Just_ stop-“ he hisses it out between clenched teeth, his breath fogging in front of him.  
Turning, he stretches an arm out to lean against the wall, dipping his head down to glare into the concrete. The echo of thunder still rumbling between his ribs. 

_Otabek doesn’t even like women._  
Maybe.  
_Fuck._

Yuri saw it. The color in her face. The way she laughed. Like _of course_ she laughed. _Of course_ he made her feel warm. He’s Otabek.  
He’s everything good and no one deserves him. Not Yuri. Not anyone. 

Yuri would know. He’s the one who ran from it.  
Ran from... _what_...  
It’s hard to remember sometimes. Especially when Yuri thinks about the fact that just 6 weeks ago he finally held the unworldly power to summon a photo of Otabek’s dick whenever he wanted-

 _No._  
It’s fine.  
He’s at the fucking Olympics.  
He needs to win. 

_Yes_. Yuri repeats it to himself while absently adjusting the buttons at his sleeves but his brain hates him so it flashes an image of Otabek buried into his shoulder, crying and shaking above him. The sound of Otabek telling him he loved him replaying in the space between his ears. 

_ No _

With forced composure and falsified confidence Yuri pushes himself off the wall, and heads back inside.  
When he returns to his seat he flashes an easy smile, pointedly meeting eyes with the person to his right and nudging towards their watch. Asking where he got it and quickly moving them into easy conversation.  
Not once does he look back over at Otabek or whoever that woman is who so desperately wants to marry him.  
Not once.

...  


**=======**

...  


It’s 2am. 

...

_Go to sleep_.

...

...  


**=======**

...  


3 a.m.? _How_?

You’re literally doing _fuck all_.

Sleep.  
_Dumbass_.

...  
...

...  


**=======**

...  


Awesome, well, now it’s 4am.

_Shit._

God _fucking_ dammit.

Yuri smashes a pillow over his face and screams.

...  


**=======**

...  


His hand touched the ice.  
He’s second place in the short program. _His. Fucking. Hand. Touched. The. Fucking. Ice._

He doesn’t to talk to anyone.  
He throws his skates across the empty locker room.  
Slams the door.  
Crashes his own locker in just to hear the sound. 

He doesn’t give a shit that he touched the ice.  
He gives a shit _why_ he touched it. 

_FUCK_

Because he didn’t sleep.  
Because he couldn’t.  
Because all he saw was some stranger’s face looking breathlessly into _his_.  
And he _knew_. Yuri knew _exactly_ what she was thinking:  
‘ _I could fall in love with this person_ ’

He slams the locker door again. 

“Yuri.” Yakov calls. 

He doesn’t respond. He just picks up his bag, grabs his skates and shoulders past the door  
“You went in with too much speed-“

“Yeah. I fucking know. I didn’t fucking sleep so I’m going back to the fucking hotel where I can fucking pass out and then I’ll fucking fix it tomorrow.”

“You’ll fix what, Yura?”

Yuri stops.  
He turns back to look at Yakov then tilts his head up to stare up into the lights. He shakes his head.  
_Fix what_....

Walking away, he repeats it over and over again.  
Fix what  
_Fix what_  
Fix _what_  
_Fix_ what

...  


**======= ******

****

****

...  


The short program ends with Otabek in first. His hand _didn’t_ touch the ice.  
Yuri actually thinks it’s the best Otabek has ever skated. 

A rumble of an engine echoes through the parking garage. Without even seeing it Yuri knows it’s the one he’s been waiting for.  
He peaks underneath his hoodie, spotting headlights shining around the corner. Slowly he uncurls himself from the guardrail he’s been draped over. Hands in his pockets. Eyes narrowed. Lips tight. Waiting.

Otabek spots him as he pulls in to park, their eyes briefly meeting through his helmet.  
Yuri won’t say anything. Not until Otabek is fully dismounted, and walking towards this entrance. The one leading to the side of the hotel lobby. He’d figured it was the best place to catch Otabek on his way back. _Thank god_ he was right. 

There’s an actual hint of annoyance on Otabek’s face. It’s privilege to see, Yuri thinks, even though it’s for him. The _rarity_ of it-

“Hey.” Yuri says it quick and dry biting down on his own tongue. 

Otabek stops in front of him. Standing tense. No reply. 

Anxiously, Yuri hits the top of his shoe on the ground, “Can we talk?”

...  



	9. Part II: 3. Faults on Faults

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway **

****

...  


“Can we talk?”

Otabek gives a stiff nod then continues walking ahead.  
Yuri follows after him, head down.  
_They must be going to his room_?  
Maybe not though. Maybe Otabek is bringing him to the roof? So he can push him off? Because Yuri deserves it?

They manage getting an elevator without anyone else in it. Otabek selects a floor.  
_Well_ , it’s not the roof _so_... that’s _pretty tight_.

They wait.  
Smooth jazz elevator music awkwardly filling the space around them. Yuri wants to make a joke by asking his phone to tell him whose playing so he can theatrically save it to his library but he bites it back. Because _obviously_.  
He gives himself permission for one glance. _Just one_. 

_Yeah okay_. 

It’s enough.  
As if Yuri wasn’t already aware, Otabek looks good. Always looks good. Tonight he’s wearing practically all black, save the hoodie underneath his jacket which is more of a charcoal gray. And even though he looks tired after today’s program, he looks satisfied. Being in first always looks so _fucking good_ on him. 

_It’d be so nice_ , Yuri thinks, if he could just lean in and slide his tongue down Otabek’s throat-

The elevator dings on their arrival.  
They exit, Otabek leading. Yuri a couple steps behind.  
When they reach his room Otabek clicks it unlocked and holds the door open, his eyes purposely down, waiting for Yuri to enter first.  
He still hasn’t said anything.  
It feels fucking terrible.  
The beating of his own heart is so erratic Yuri wonders if his lifespan is being shortened with every minute.

Otabek dumps his bag and helmet in the chair by the window before crossing to the bathroom. Still fully ignoring him.  
All Yuri can manage to do is stand awkwardly next to the couch. Head down. Hood still up. Hands stuffed tight in his pockets. Palms noticeably sweatier than before. Throat made of _actual_ sand. 

There’s the sound of a faucet turning on, the sound of Otabek washing his hands through the open bathroom door, it’s weirdly soothing, but any calming effect dissolves as soon as the water shuts off. Otabek comes back out drying his hands on a towel.  
“You wanted to talk?” Otabek says it like he just wants it to be over. Like he just wants this to be ripped off and forgotten. It’s such a foreign look on his face. The annoyance. The coldness. 

A chill runs up Yuri’s spine to remind him just how little experience he has in all of this. How he _really_ has no idea what words to use or how he’s supposed to express anything. So he says the only part that he knows for sure he wants to say.  
“I’m sorry.”

Otabek lets out an unimpressed sigh. 

“No. _I’m_ —“ Yuri grips the fabric inside his pockets “I’m _really_ sorry. _I_ \- I know I fucked up.”

Otabek tosses the towel back to the bathroom.  
“I haven’t heard from you in 6 weeks, Yuri. You didn’t respond to anything I sent.” Otabek recalls it with a growing frustration in his voice, arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me how that helps us.”

“I don’t- It _doesn’t_ \- _I_ -” Yuri rubs at his eyes “it just hurt. _Fuck_ \- All of it. I wanted you so much and _I_ -“

“And I _don’t_ hurt? I _don’t_ want you?”

“ _I don’t fucking know_! _Do_ you?” Yuri snaps, months of frustration maybe years of frustration are behind it, “You _never talk about it_! You never talk about ways we could not be a million fucking miles apart! It’s always me! _I’m_ the one that says I miss you and want to be with you and can’t stand it. _Me_! And even if I _can_ get you to talk about it you talk like it’s all _fucking fine_. Who cares, right? _Not fucking you_! ‘We’ll talk about it later’- ‘some other time’- not now, which I found out, coming from _you_ , means _not fucking ever_! Like you’re not dying. Meanwhile, I am most definitely _fucking dying_!”

Otabek’s shoulders go rigid. He goes to say something but stops. Stuffing one hand in his pocket he brings the other to his brow like he can’t understand a word Yuri just said. “I can’t just move Yuri. I can’t pick up everything and move, my rink is in—“

“ _I KNOW THAT_ ”

“ _DO_ you?” Otabek glares at him, “ _Do you_ , Yuri? Because you ask me about it so many times that it _really_ makes me question if you’re—” Otabek shakes his head, looking away, furious with the theory he’s convinced himself he’s right about, “if _all_ of this is just so you can set me up. So you can have a reason to hang up the phone in the first place. So you have a reason for disappearing- Since you seem to do it so often. So you can go and do _whatever_ \- I don’t even know. Sleep with whoever. Whatever it is that you need to do. _Jesus_ , Yuri, I didn’t hear from you for _6 weeks_. We had—“ Otabek eyes start glossing over, anger crossing into pain, “ _we had everything_. I thought. We finally had everything and _you_ — just disappeared. Like it was nothing.”  
_Like he was nothing_.  
Otabek shakes his head, lips tight, eyes wet, backing away, “It’s selfish, Yuri. Whatever your intention was. It was selfish.”

There’s a new crack forming on Yuri’s heart and it won’t stop growing.  
“ _I_ \- I know. I didn’t... I swear, I wasn’t trying to—” He has no argument, it’s no use trying to find words for one. “You’re right. About the selfish part. I’m sorry. And, _Jesus_ , I didn’t fuck anyone. I’m not that much of a piece of shit okay?” He’s glaring, “But I know I’m not good at this. It’s not an excuse or any weak crap like that. I know I fucked up. _And_ \- You’re right. I don’t—“ he bites so hard at his lip he draws blood, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand. _If_ — If we want to be together...”

“We were together.”

Yuri’s heart does a full split down the middle this time. He said ‘ _were_ ’. Otabek said ‘were’.  
We _were_ together.  
We _were_ together.  
He feels his breathing get panicked. The room starts spinning. His eyes are welling up.  
_Shit_.  
_Shit_.  
Why did he fuck up.  
What’s wrong with him.  
_Fuck_.  
_He had him_.  
He had him and now he doesn’t.  
He legs feel like they might buckle. Like he needs to sit down. 

They could be in bed right now. They could be watching stupid hotel tv and ordering room service after having sex, if only he hadn’t been such a _fucking asshole_. 

They weren’t together  
Not anymore  
Otabek said it  
_Of course they weren’t together_  
He ignored Otabek for 6 straight weeks without a reason  
What did he think would happen?  
Why would Otabek ever want him after that?  
_Otabek deserves better_  
He deserves someone who will talk to him  
Send him photos of bears that look like him  
Someone who tells him they love him every day  
_Doesn’t hurt him_  
Doesn’t make him feel like this  
Yuri had him  
He had him and he couldn’t fucking handle it so he went ahead and ruined it. 

There’s a good chance he’s crying now. He can feel his hands shaking. He starts anxiously nodding to himself.  
_He gets it._  
They were together.  
Now they aren’t.  
The message is clear  
And since he doesn’t have anything to lose now he lets the words fall right out-  
“I’ll go. You don’t have to see me or do this again. But so you know. Not having you, some days, while feeling fucking everything for you... and _you_... just brushing it to the side- I know you can’t just move, Otabek. I’m not an idiot. I knew that. And I shouldn’t have asked it the dumbass way I did but... you _never_ talked to me about it. So _I_ —I thought you wouldn’t care. You know, if you’re so unbothered by it, if you don’t find any fucking value in talking about it or while it’s _breaking_ me, maybe it means that— that you want to keep it that way. You _don’t_ \- you don’t want it to change. Being apart- it’s fine for you-“

“Yuri.” Otabek looks at him like Yuri just flat out accused him of murder, “ _How could you think that_? I told you I missed you all the time, the only reason I never led it was because you always said it first. We cried in Nagoya, over the phone, in video, _how_ — I don’t understand how after _all of that_ you could possibly assume I wasn’t hurting with you? _Of course_ I can’t stand the distance. _God_ \- I _finally_ had you. I actually had you. And then we both had to leave. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy and so mournful as the day you left the hotel. But, if I’m being honest ... And this is the part I don’t understand with you, Yuri— despite it, I was so happy. After all that we were finally together and I was _so- so_ happy. For me, that easily outweighed whatever temporary sadness there was in us being apart. I only assumed you felt similarly.” 

Yuri crumples in on himself from shame.  
He doesn’t understand either. Why couldn’t he have just been happy? Why couldn’t he have looked at it the way Otabek did? Maybe Otabek was right. Maybe Yuri was just incapable of ever letting himself be happy... _that’s a thing some people do right_? Maybe that’s him. Maybe he had that-

Otabek starts again, “I can’t move, Yuri. And obviously you can’t move. And we both know at some point it’ll be me doing the moving but I don’t have an answer of when that will be. And I really don’t understand why you would want to hear that. I don’t know why you’d want to hear me say over and over and over again that I don’t know. Is that what you wanted? Words that have no action with them? Because, truly Yuri, there’s nothing else I can do at this point. So is that really what you wanted to hear?”

_Sorry_

_What_

No

He didn’t know that.  
He didn’t know Otabek had resolved that he’d eventually be the one to move.  
_What_.  
Yuri really _really did not know that_. He hoped. Because he knew he couldn’t. He had hoped Otabek would be willing. _Hoped_. But from the way Otabek always diverted the conversation he felt that hope dwindle more and more every day.  
And now it’s too late. Because he fucking ruined it. 

“Yuri.” Otabek looks up at him, the dawn of realization hitting his face, “You did want me to say that, didn’t you? It didn’t matter to you- it didn’t matter that I couldn’t do anything, you just didn’t want to feel like you were the only one who-” Otabek presses a hand to his temple, eyes stretching wide, searching, “ _I_ \- I should have told you I didn’t know yet. That I felt shame for not knowing- instead of what I did which was-” he stills on an answer, “I was dismissive. I was being dismissive towards you, wasn’t I?”

Yuri barely hears anything Otabek just said, “You knew you were going to move to St Petersburg?” He stares at him, tears filling his vision, “You knew that? Maybe not like soon but you knew that at some point you were going move? _You_...” his chest shakes, “- _you already knew that_?”

“What-” Otabek blinks in confusion, “Of course. I would have to. I- You can’t leave your rink. You’re younger. It would be inevitable. Surely you knew-“

Yuri feels like he might fall straight through the floor. His head falls forward, chin meeting his chest, eyes squeezed shut, his whole face is swollen and throbbing, his cheeks are drenched and hidden under the safety of his hood. 

“Yuri?” He hears Otabek coming closer but doesn’t look up. “Please tell me you knew that too-“

Yuri shakes his head, hands still clutching at the lining of his pockets.  
He feels a touch on his shoulder. Why does it have to be so comforting? even right now?  
He keeps his face down, pressure building in his head.  
_We were together  
I was going to move to St Petersburg  
But then you ruined it  
By being an impatient, needy, selfish prick_  
He feels another hand press against the side of his hood. Otabek lifts his face to look at it. Yuri really wishes he wasn’t crying so hard. 

There’s about a bucket of fluid clogging up the space between his eyes and nose and he tries to swallow it down but it just ends up making it worse, he chokes out a cough and sniffs. “Did you mean it when you said ‘ _we were together_ ’?” He can’t help it. He’s a child. It’s like he’s asking to be punched in the fucking heart. 

Otabek doesn’t understand. 

“You said ‘ _were_ ’,” Yuri emphasizes heartbrokenly.

“ _I_... no. _No_. You said if we wanted to be together and I meant, even though we hadn’t been physically together we were still together during it. Although- I guess I haven’t been _entirely_ sure if you still even wanted-“

Yuri glares at him, eyes red, he sniffs and angrily wipes his nose on his sleeve, “That’s so fucking stupid, Otabek. How can you even say that? I know I didn’t talk to you or reply and even ignored you every day since we got here and _okay_! As I’m saying that out loud this does make it a confusing statement but you should _really_ fucking know at this point that I _only_ ever want you. _Ever_.” Yuri tilts his head back exasperated, “ _I told you, I_ —“

Otabek kisses him. 

Yuri melts. They both melt. He cries softly into Otabek’s mouth, partially because he can’t actually breathe but also because maybe this means it’s okay.  
They kiss desperately and forgiving.  
Otabek moves, kissing Yuri’s cheeks, his nose, his forehead, gently he slides Yuri’s hood down and kisses against his head.

The relief that washes over him could take out a city.  
Otabek breathes in deep against his hair. Yuri winces from it. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” he murmurs it into Otabek neck, “I’m sorry I didn’t write back. Or answer. I won’t-” he pulls back and clasps his hands around Otabek’s neck. He sniffs and twists his head into his arm to wipe away more of the snot dribbling out his nose. “ _I promise_ , I won’t do it again. I was fucking miserable. I’ve been miserable. I’m _so fucking_ miserable without you. And _oh_ \- _GOD_ \- I couldn’t fucking sleep at all last night cause I couldn’t stop thinking about- _ugh_ that woman you were sitting next to yesterday. _Fuck!_ I wanted to poison her! Is that bad? I don’t even care, I don’t give a shit if it is- but is it?”

Otabek breaks out into an exhausted laugh and brings a hand up to rub at his eyes. 

Yuri keeps on it, “She’s an idiot. I hate her. Who is she?”

“Who _cares_? You’re Yuri Plisetsky,” Otabek strokes his thumb again Yuri’s cheek, like it makes perfect sense. 

It does make Yuri smile, then fade just as fast when he remembers it all again, “she touched your hand.”

Otabek smiles tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, sighing, “ _So jealous_ , Yuri. Interesting for you to be so bothered over something like that when I saw hand after hand reaching out for your arm all night. Was it Italy’s skater who took a strand of your hair and started ‘ _admiring_ ’ it?” Otabek mimics the move. 

_Yeah, well..._  
_Okay_ , Yuri forgets these things happen to him because of the sheer amount of mental numbing he requires to get through shit.  
But. _Sure_. He gets touched a lot. And once-overed. And flirted with. Eye-fucked. _Sure_. That was different though. People may wanna fuck Yuri but they fall in love with Otabek. And it’s offensive because Otabek is too good for anyone and they should all know that.  
“She doesn’t deserve to touch your hand.”

“Mm. And who does?” Otabek challenges him, his eyes on Yuri’s lips. 

“Me.” Yuri states bluntly, “when I’m not being an asshole.”  
Otabek listens, still taking strands of his hair and combing through them.  
Yuri replays what Otabek just said, then presses him curiously, “You were watching me last night?”

“Mm.”

Yuri considers this and everything else that’s been said tonight with the newfound possibility that underneath all this warmth and sculpted perfection Otabek may... _just may_ actually be a person- a person that feels things that persons do. Some of which aren’t so warm or perfect. Yuri arches a brow, testing it. “You know, Leo offered to show me around LA if I was ever in the area—“

“Leo?” Otabek’s voice sharpens in a way that makes Yuri’s stomach dip pleasurably down. _Yes_. It’s a bit like he’s on a roller coaster that just started to plummet.

“Mm.”

Otabek rolls his eyes, and starts wrapping hair at the nape of Yuri’s neck around his hand. “As if Leo could ever satisfy you.”

 _Oh_.  
It’s a noticeable tonal shift. From heartbreaking relief to raw sexual need.  
There’s something in Otabek’s voice when he says it. Like he’s frustrated. _Pent up_. Like Yuri’s been tipping him to some kind of edge _for weeks_.

Yuri parts his lips, “And who could?”

With Yuri’s hair wrapped around his hand, Otabek pulls, staring darkly at Yuri’s lips, but just when he moves in, he pauses. Brows knitted, grip loosening till it falls to his side.  
“Me. I would like it to be me.” Otabek answers looking down at Yuri’s hand in his, “I would like to think I could deserve you, Yuri. Maybe when I’m not being a dismissive ass towards you, I could.” his eyes painted in disappointment, “I can be _so_ \- blind at times. I’m sorry you had to suffer from it. I made it so I got to hold all the good parts of us being together while you were stuck carrying the bad. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Yuri is still so relieved at the concept that maybe he didn’t ruin everything. That he still gets to be with Otabek. That Otabek still wants him at all. He barely registers the apology let alone understands it.  
“I mean... okay _but_ \- I still win. Like. I full on fucking deserted. So I’m definitely reigning asshole this round. It was a good effort though _I_ -” Yuri’s mind races faster than his mouth, a fear filling him, “ _Wait_ -“ his stomach drops 6 feet down, but in the worst way, “Did _you_ fuck som-“

Otabek looks at him like he just made the most exhausting joke of all time. “ _Really_?”

“ _Ooooh_ ” Yuri rolls his eyes, hard. “ _Fuck off_. Don’t- no. You don’t get to do that. Look, I know you’re _you_ and like to meet people via messages in bottles thrown in the ocean, but I could also turn the TV on right now and find your half naked body sweating in a homoerotic Nike ad somewhere. So, no, Otabek. You don’t get to say ‘ _really?_ ’ to that question like I’m asking something crazy- not when you’re as fuckable as you are and as good at it as you are.“

“No.” Otabek sighs, “I didn’t sleep with anyone.” His eyes go soft but he still speaks like the question doesn’t make sense, “ _Of course_ I didn’t. I told you you’d ruin me, didn’t I? I can’t be unruined now-“

Yuri pulls him in by back of the neck and kisses him. Because he’s so beautiful. And remembering that fucking Nike ad and all the times he’s gotten hard from it over the years while Otabek stands inches from him now turns his brain to actual mush.  
Otabek smiles into his mouth. _Is he laughing?_  
Yuri pulls away confused. “What?”

Otabek’s face is flushed, he’s squeezing his eyes shut, wide smile, “It’s... _embarrassing_ -“

“Are you seriously just offering to tell me something embarrassing? Tell me right now.”

“You brought up that commercial and it reminded me- I have the uh- _God_ \- I have the cologne ad you did- I have it saved. The one where you’re in a room with all those mirrors and it’s dark-“

Yuri smirks, “ _Oh yeah_? You must have been so bummed I don’t have a mustache in it.”

Otabek grins so hard into the ceiling he’s practically burning a hole through it, determined to share this embarrassing horny tidbit in his life for _absolutely no reason_ , “I- _used it_.”

“You _used_ it?” Yuri arches a brow. 

“Mm. You’re-“ Otabek squeezes his eyes shot then smiles into the ground, “ _Very attractive_ , Yuri.”

“ _Oh_ , I see. I should write this down- _you_ , Otabek, fucked yourself while watching me in some artsy nonsense cologne ad?”

“Mm.” 

“Well, that’s great news. Cause I’ve been fucking myself to _literally_ anything I ever saw you in. Pretty sure you did a morning talk show interview that I caught on a god damned airplane of all places and even that made me have to empty my dick out. Ever jerked off in that broom closet of a bathroom that airplanes have, Otabek? Cause I did. Thinking about you. Thinking about you sitting under bad lighting and a bunch of stupid fake plants. _Jesus Christ_ \- You have singlehandedly caused so many inconvenient moments for me- _holy shit_ \- you can’t even fucking imagine. So I’m glad to hear I could cause a couple for you too. _Wow_ , you know? _We have so much common!_ ”

Otabek smiles at him like he loves him, “You know, not a single one of the messages in bottles I’ve collected over the years has ever mentioned having to masturbate to me in an airplane bathroom. Not one.”

Yuri sighs and grabs a fistful of Otbaek’s shirt, pulling him in close. He holds there a moment, feeling the warm power of Otabek’s chest under his grip.  
Otabek stills with him letting his hands slide down Yuri’s back, pushing against the curve of his spine, pressing him in closer. “I missed you, Yuri. I don’t know if you saw any of the messages-”

Yuri shakes his head, frowning. “Any time I thought about it I started crying. And I can’t not think about you so I figured I’d just- not ever think or... do- _anything_? I don’t know. Looking back it doesn’t make much sense, it was a shit strategy.”

“Yes. Your strategy could use some work, I won’t disagree there.” Otabek smiles at him, “But it might actually be a relief to know you didn’t read any of it. If you want to hand me your phone at some point so I can delete them all I’d be more than happy to-“

“Why, what’s in them?”

Otabek sighs, disappointed at himself. “Sad things.” 

“ _Mean_ things?”

Otabek furrows his brow, “No.”

“ _Oh_. I figured they’d be mean.”

“Mm. Should I try being mean next time?” He smirks. 

Yuri actually laughs, trying to picture it and failing. He can picture a million things he could say for Otabek about himself but Otabek on his own saying none of them. What a waste to have so many horrible qualities that will never be used by a boyfriend in a fight.  
“ _Honestly_? Probably.”

Otabek shakes his head then leans in to kiss him, pulling him in by his waist and letting the need begin to fill them both. Yuri closes his eyes and wraps his arms around his neck, relaxing in it. Otabek angles his head more, reaching his tongue in further until Yuri pulls it to suck and lap over it with his own. Otabek hitches a breath, the movement of Yuri’s tongue igniting something in him.  
His fingers grab the open flaps of Yuri’s jacket while he walks them both backwards towards the bed. Keeping his eyes closed, Yuri grins, never not excited at being able to let himself fall fully under Otabek’s lead. 

Their kissing slows when Otabek stops them. He peels Yuri’s jacket off and tucks his chin over his shoulder, hanging the jacket off the bed post then bringing his hands back to run down over Yuri’s shirt, up and along his back, his mouth wetting the fabric over his shoulder.  
Yuri takes a half step back to pull his shirt up over his head and drop it on the ground. 

Otabek’s eyes widen. His brows furrowed on a sizable purple bruise along Yuri’s side, gracing up to his rib cage.  
Yuri looks down. “Oh. Yeah. That was the wall. Got in my way on a landing. I’ve _uh_ \- been sort of _insane_ the past few weeks? Wait till you see my right thigh.”

Otabek doesn’t say anything, just starts undressing himself. Jacket off. Shoes and socks. Pants. Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t stop him, waits, watching with a dampening mouth. When Otabek pulls his shirt over Yuri spots it. A near identical bruise, maybe slightly bigger in almost the exact same place as his. 

“ _Ah shit!_ ” Yuri winces, inching closer to look at it.  
Otabek then drops his underwear and Yuri freezes, head leaning to the side, losing focus, everything muddling into a blur save Otabek’s bare dick. Until he sees this one. The deepest of purple bruises painted up along his upper thigh, leading all the way up to the side of his ass. 

Yuri manages to tear his eyes away. Otabek smiles, “I also may gotten a bit carried away these last few weeks.”

Yuri laughs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling and takes his turn. Undressing his own lower half. When he comes back up, he pulls a hand halfway through his hair, staring at his purple spotted legs. He looks back over at Otabek, and shrugs.  
“I blame you, obviously.”

Otabek laughs, hand to his eyes. “ _Jesus_ Yuri.”

Yuri’s legs are covered in collisions. Covered in a way they haven’t been since he hit his first growth spurt so many years ago. Nature offered him very little transition time for adjusting his jumps to his new body. He became unyielding in his frustration. Almost like the bruises he got from his falls were a part of his own coming-of-age ritual to welcome his new form.  
This though... this was just from stupid self inflicted broken hearted madness.

Otabek steps forward, eyes blinking over the side of Yuri’s ass with the bruise that looks a bit like the Australian continent under it. “You shouldn’t fall so much, Yuri.”

Yuri nearly snorts, “ _Oh_ , is that what the problem is? Okay.”

“Mm. You need to keep yourself centered-“

“I’m going to twist your nipples.”

“Keep your arms hugged in close-“

Yuri bites behind his lip and grips into Otabek’s hips, bringing him in, their dicks waking each other up.  
Otabek keeps his grin cocky, eyes twinkling.  
Yuri murmurs, breath warm against his face, “You’re not that hot, Altin. I don’t even care that you’re naked right now.”

“Mm,” Otabek leans in more, “ _No_?”

Yuri swallows, lips parting, “No.”

“Not even a little, Yuri?” Otabek asks his voice with a knowing plea.

“Nope. You’re _so_ -“ Yuri takes a sharp inhale feeling the heads of their cocks drag against each other, “ _average_ , Otabek.” Yuri’s hips start rolling on their own, his dick betraying him with every second, shots of addictive pleasure hitting inside every time their cocks press and slide. “I don’t want to fuck you at all.” 

Otabek smiles against his voice.  
“ _Shame_.” he says it then leans in to kiss him. 

Yuri sighs into his mouth, grinding himself without reason. Unable to stop. Hands grasping. His mind filling with Otabek’s body and all the ways he wants to consume it.  
Otabek is doing that thing with his tongue where it twists itself and laps back, over and over again in his mouth. It’s too controlled. Drives Yuri too fucking crazy. He takes Otabek’s lip between his teeth and walks them back one step.  
He pushes down on Otabek’s shoulders, forcing him to sit 

“Lay the fuck down, Altin. I’m gonna ruin you some more.”

Otabek stops breathing. Yuri bends down to his own discarded pants and pulls out an elastic band from the pocket.  
“Lay. _Down_.” He repeats it. Eyes serious but promising pleasure. 

Otabek gives him a dark look but drags himself back to the pillows, and lays down, legs outstretched, hand to his head, watching. Yuri smirks and crawls down and over to him, settling himself between his thighs. 

He lifts himself up on his knees, elastic tie between his teeth, running his hands through his hair and pulling it back. His dick arched hard in anticipation.  
“I have one condition-“ Yuri states, twisting his hair up into a bun and stretching the band over it. “I want you to swear. At least once.”

Otabek stares at him with half lidded eyes. Fingers fixed above his brows. He swallows, going to say something but stops when Yuri wraps a fist around his cock and lowers himself all the way down. 

Yuri grins and sighs into his inner thigh. Kissing him. Kissing him higher and higher, hand still gripping the base of his cock, his thumb softly stroking along the middle of his shaft.  
Yuri licks when he meets the part that joins into thick coarse hair then turns to open his mouth, lips parted over his balls. Otabek sucks in a breath that sounds like a shiver. Yuri licks. And kisses and sucks against the sack. Hand firm. Thumb still stroking underneath his crown. He rolls his tongue out over and over, loving it all far too much. 

Otabek tilts his head back, hand still resting on his brow. His hips twitch. Craving more. It’s a drug. This is a drug for Yuri. Seeing Otabek like this. 

Yuri gives one last kiss then lets go of his grip so he can lean in and lick a long stripe on the underside of his cock.  
Otabek presses his lips together tight and _moans_. Thighs flexing. Yuri does it again. One long lick and pulling off.  
And then he does it again.  
And _again_.  
Otabek is getting frustrated. Breath coming out haggard and aggressive. It’s so fucking beautiful. It could be a postcard.  
_Greetings from Heaven_.  
Yuri kisses the crown, looking at him. “You still need to swear, Otabek.”  
He gives a half grin then parts his lips and swallows him down whole. 

“ _Oh shhh_ -“ Otabek convulses, nearly pulling himself up then collapsing back down on the bed. 

Yuri sucks, sliding up and then back down, swirling his tongue with the angle of his head.  
He sees Otabek’s hands nearly reach for him but then fall back to the sheets.  
Closing his eyes, Yuri loses himself more, sliding wet, up and down his shaft, taking his time, drinking down the leaking cum and holding it in his mouth. His own hips grinding into the bed with every slide of his head. 

“ _Yuri_ -“  
Yuri stills, holding him deep in his throat. He tucks both his hands under Otabek’s ass and forcibly pushes Otabek’s hips to thrust into his mouth. 

“Oh _f_ -“

Yuri’s eyes shoot open excitedly from the sound. He slides his lips off his cock just enough so it still leans up against his open mouth. “You’re _so close_ to saying it. Doesn’t it feel good enough yet?”

Otabek groans telling him it does, his hand pressed firm into his closed eyes. 

“I bet if you watched me you’d say it.“ Yuri traces his tongue along the underside of his crown. Otabek peers under his hand, eyes wet, panting. “ _Watch me_. You’ll like it.”

They lock eyes before Yuri dips back down. 

“Yuri-“

Yuri bobs and pulls his lips off, making sure strings of fluids stretch up and away before he goes back to consuming. He digs his fingers into Otabek’s ass again, encouraging him to grind up. 

Otabek whines, his abdomen flexing and constricting, until finally he can’t fight it anymore, surrendering to his own need and pumps into Yuri’s mouth. His hips moving like he just unleashed something inside. 

Yuri sighs and relaxes his throat for him, relishing in the power of it. He lets his tongue swirl and twist and he moves his hand up to grip at the base and stroke alongside him. 

Otabek is up on his forearms, sweating and panting, his eyes serious as he watches himself fuck into Yuri’s swollen lips.

“ _Ah_ -“ Otabek chokes back and swallows. 

Yuri bobs faster, cheeks sucking in more. 

“F- _ah_ \- _mm_ -“ Otabek stutters on his own sounds, hips matching Yuri’s mouth. It’s _so fucking sweet_ , Yuri’s eyes roll from it. “Fu-“

Yuri hums. Sucking around him more. 

“ _Yuri_ -“ Otabek’s collapses back on the bed, hips pressed up, Yuri nods, encouraging him, recognizing the tension in his thighs and the way he’s bracing. Ready to feel it fill him.

“Ah- _Fuck_ -“

Otabek gasps, mouth hanging open as he falls over the edge, he shakes so hard the bed shakes with him.

Yuri moans. Satisfied, swallowing him down. Licking and collecting every drop.  
Once the tremors quiet and still, Yuri lifts off and pants. Smiling before he lets his head fall against Otabek’s stomach. He presses a kiss into the skin below his naval. 

_So fucking perfect._  
He could fall asleep like this.  
He’s so tired. Their encounters really need to stop running through every single fucking emotion every time. _All the colors of the god damned rainbow, Jesus Christ_. It’s exhausting. 

“Yuri?”

“ _Hmm_?” Yuri says sleepily, his body sinking more and more into the soft bed and the hard muscles of Otabek’s abdomen supporting his head. He _really_... _really_ could sleep like this.  
Otabek fingers start running through his hair.  
_Oh_  
It’s like being submerged in a warm bath. 

“Can I-“

“ _Mmm_ ,” Yuri isn’t really listening. Just nuzzles in deeper, eyes closed, body becoming heavier with every breath. “ _I’m_ \- I didn’t sleep- I was up all night thinking about that-“ he drifts again and mumbles soft into his skin, “ _she_ \- she wanted to marry you.” He lets out a half conscious laugh, “ _S’tupid_.” he smiles, “ _just_ \- just let me sleep here, okay?”

Otabek sighs and waits a moment before gripping into Yuri’s shoulders and hoisting him up. Yuri makes a displeased sound but Otabek ignores him and pulls him into his chest anyway. Which isn’t actually a bad thing because when Yuri lies back down he deflates entirely.  
He sighs and sinks deeper and deeper again. Otabek’s fingertips tracing through his hair.  
_It is the warmest bath._


	10. Part II: 4. Unnatural (1/2)

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

...  


The next morning feels different. 

When day breaks and the overcast sky pummels through the windows to press against Yuri’s eyelids, he doesn’t even groan from it.  
And then when he opens them and sees everything painted bright, no filter, no blur, the room around him sharp and clear- he doesn’t bury his head back into the pillow wishing it would all go dark again.  
Yuri stays, letting his eyes adjust, his lungs fill, taking in the chest that’s pressed against his back. 

He looks down. Otabek’s arm, hugging him close.  
Quiet and still.  
Yuri focuses in, tries to see if he can tell whether Otabek’s asleep from the sound and feel of his breathing.  
It’s steady. Long and full. He must be. It sounds like the god damned ocean.  
Yuri sinks his head more into the pillow, his fingertips hovering over Otabek’s forearm.  
He wonders how much Otabek can sleep through. Like- if Yuri twisted around and kissed the corner of his mouth would he wake up from it?  
He wants to.  
But. He won’t. 

Yuri knows better than anyone. The only way to survive the following 48 hours will be sleep. Otabek should take as much as he can.  
Yuri’s already fucked himself in that department after losing a full day’s rest from the night before last. Funny though. Cause the dread of it still can’t manage to outweigh whatever the hell this morning feels like. 

Yuri watches as the skin of his fingertips lightly brush against the hair on Otabek’s arm. Maybe that’s what love is, he thinks. Love is letting Otabek sleep despite the growing ache in his stomach wanting to kiss him. 

_Ugh_. He needs coffee. And water. Also a toothbrush. _Actually_ , from the way his mouth feels maybe a backup toothbrush in case the first one breaks. 

As stealthily as he can, Yuri loosens himself from Otabek’s hold, sliding out from under his arm until he’s far enough away at the foot of the bed that he can sit up on his knees without disturbing him.  
By a miracle, Otabek doesn’t wake. Only turns more into the pillow Yuri left and breathes in deep, sleeping just as soundly. 

He’s beautiful.  
_Fuck_ he’s beautiful. 

Yuri stares at him, eyes strangely sad.  
What is it like to sleep so deeply and serenely that the air around you warms and the bed under you glows?  
Yuri’s learned now that Otabek doesn’t turn in his sleep. Doesn’t wake when the bed moves.  
It all fits. It’s Otabek. But why?  
There’s more. Like-  
Why doesn’t Otabek’s leg bounce?  
Seriously, why doesn’t Otabek fidget _ever_? - no matter how boring it is or how grueling the pressure?  
Why when Otabek stands in a room does he always look rooted? Like he belongs in it?  
And why doesn’t he hate? -anything?  
Why does he love someone who does?

Yuri looks down at the bruises on his legs.  
It’s not that he wants to hear the reasons Otabek loves him or any self-congratulatory shit like that. It’s all just... different. From him.  
Yet he feels- well...

In less than a month Yuri will be 22. It’s been almost 22 years, and not once has Yuri thought of or wanted to grab a coffee for someone and bring it back.

This morning feels different. 

This morning, Yuri would like to go downstairs, order two coffees from the hotel’s coffee bar and bring one back for Otabek.  
It’s not that big of a deal or anything, it’ll probably be cold by the time Otabek drinks it but-  
_Mm_. Yeah. he’s gonna do that, that feels-  
That feels like it’s good. 

Quietly, he stands up off the bed, then scrounges the floor for his clothes and starts to dress.  
Remembering he left the elastic band on the nightstand he quickly grabs it then heads to the bathroom for a piss and to survey how much ass he currently looks like.

 _Ha._  
Okay  
Well,  
Thanks to the sheer medicinal power of Otabek’s cum he looks surprisingly more rested than he ought to.  
He pulls his hair up into a loose bun, brings his hood over, and walks back out feeling his pockets for his wallet and-  
_Room key_ \- he spots an extra on the desk.  
_Phone_ \- grabs it from the night stand-  
_oh fucking GOD are you_ \- nope  
He stuffs it into his pocket pretending he didn’t just see an obscene amount of notifications flash back at him. 

With one hand on the door handle Yuri stops and gives a quick last glance over at a sleeping Otabek.  
He smiles and bites the inside of his lip, shaking his head before opening the door.  
Fucking different sort of morning.

...  


Head bowed down, Yuri pushes for an elevator and stuffs his hands into his pockets, hoping and praying it’s-  
_Fuck_. Not empty.  
Good news is the guy inside doesn’t even look up from his phone.  
Could be worse  
Yuri steps in and leans up against the wall, head still down and tilting slightly away, his face under the shadow of his hood. Usually he’d pull his phone out but- that shit is on actual fire so... no

Out the corner of his eye he thinks he spots something familiar-  
Oh.  
It’s himself. _Neat._  
Otabek’s there too. _Better._  
They’re both on the newspaper the man has folded under his arm. A side by shot of the two of them on the front, headlining the sports section. It’s in a language he can’t read but no doubt it’s about his fuck up from yesterday’s short and Otabek taking the lead. 

The photos chosen for each of them are— _strategic_.  
Yuri’s has him mid-rise out of a quad Salchow he didn’t fuck up on. His eyes villainous, blood thirsty, like he’s stabbing the god damn air.  
Otabek’s is at the end of a quad flip, arms outstretched looking all Christlike. When compared to the murder shown in Yuri’s eyes, Otabek’s typical stoic face looks instead like that of a sweet blushing maiden.  
_Well_. Not that Otabek isn’t. Actually, Yuri’s sure that if Otabek trudged through the forest he’d come out with a band of wild animals at his side. Flower crowns draped on their heads. All of them on a first name basis.

With floor numbers descending quickly, Yuri takes one more glance, narrowing in on his own face and glaring back at it. 

Only when the doors open does the guy with the newspaper actually look up from his phone. Yuri barely makes eye contact, giving a slight nod before pushing his foot off the wall and walking out ahead. 

“Oh. _Holy shi_ -“

Yuri smirks to himself over the guy’s hushed gasp but doesn’t look back.  
He’s got shit to do. Important morning boyfriend shit.  
Head still down under his hood, hands tight in his pocket, he maneuvers through the lobby to the the adjoining cafe. Glancing up only to make sure he doesn’t run into anything or anyone.  
Only three people ahead of him. _Not bad_. None of this actually is all that bad. _Maybe this is something he could do the rest of_ -

“Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky hit an unexpected bump in the road yesterday on his way to becoming a two-time Olympic gold medalist. A very uncharacteristic stumble occurred when landing a triple axel near the beginning of his short program.”  
Yuri follows the voices, eyes landing on the TV playing behind the counter.  
“Yuri Plisetsky has been dominating world figure skating since Victor Nikiforov’s retirement several years ago where he went on to become Plisetsky’s full time coach. The deduction Yuri Plisetsky received last night was enough for Kazakhstan’s own Otabek Altin to take the lead, putting him in the number one spot for tonight’s upcoming free skate.”

“Well, it might be in Altin’s favor now but I can’t picture anyone feeling all too great going into a night where Yuri Plisetsky is in second-“

“Oh one-hundred percent. You _really_ have to empathize with the competitors of Yuri Plisetsky tonight. Because this is what Yuri is known for. We forget because Yuri’s scores have been _so_ consistently high the last couple years, he simply hasn’t needed to pull out all the stops as often as he used but _you have to remember_ it’s in these rare hairsplitting moments, most of which are almost exclusively with Altin, when that hyper competitiveness of his, that _signature danger_ of Yuri’s really comes out. History will most certainly be made tonight. I’m sure you noticed, but we got a hint of it immediately following his hand going down.”

“Oh yes. Like a cold wind blew in. That quad Salchow triple toe loop combo was unbelievable.”

“A most bitter cold, yes. That Salchow had never been a combo before last night.”

“Oh you’re kidding? Unbelievable.”

“Yes, I’ll emphasize again, no one envies being a competitor of Yuri Plisetsky tonight. Our thoughts and prayers should be with all of them, _especially_ Otabek Altin-“

Yuri locks in on their laughing faces. 

“Yes. It’s hard not to worry for Altin isn’t it? Such a crowd favorite too. He showed a very strong short program last night. That score is nothing to wave off about.“

“Well, Otabek’s an incredible athlete. That’s undeniable. I’ll admit, what Otabek Altin showed us last night was some of his best. If I wasn’t so worried about him having to skate _after_ Yuri Plisetsky’s program today I’d say I was looking forward to seeing what else he can bring but as it is-“

“Yes. I’m sweating for him that’s for sure. For all of them.”

“All I can say is— Godspeed.”

It’s a known fact.  
When Yuri Plisetsky falters. When Yuri Plisetsky gets outranked-  
Everything gets very quiet and very cold.

Because it means that _thing_ \- that thing everyone talks about that Yuri has- that possession- that thing that awakes inside him and fills him entirely- it takes over- it pulses and writhes and he becomes something else.  
When there is something to prove, there will be no mercy from him.  
That’s when they know.  
When his eyes ice over and his mind goes blank. His competitors and their coaches, all of them know.  
And their smiling waving faces fall to the ice. One after the other.  
Leaving just him. Every time.  
In those moments, no one just loses to Yuri. They’re buried by him. 

He’s always had it. And he doesn’t know why or where it came from but it’s there.  
Since Yuuri and Victor retired and his dominance began, Otabek is the only one whose ever managed to stay standing. More than once their scores have been split by a fraction of a fraction with Yuri leading. And tonight it will undoubtedly be the same.  
It’s the only known release Yuri has ever really had for himself. And Otabek is the only one who gives any reason for it to be let out at all.  
_Maybe-_  
Maybe in the same way this morning is different tonight will be too. Maybe tonight, when Yuri turns back to see the bodies below him and the one that’s still standing, maybe instead of his eyes melting back into focus and his chest enveloped in cold, he’ll actually be able to smile. An _actual_ smile. Because he’ll know that Otabek is-

“Can I help- _oh_ -“

Yuri steps forward, unhinging his jaw.  
“Two coffees, please. Black. Thank you.”

...  


Yuri clicks the door unlocked and prays it doesn’t wake Otabek inside. Slowly he maneuvers in, one cup in hand, the other braced against his chest. He holds his breath, softly shutting the door behind him, and peering across the room. 

_Oh  
FUCK YES  
GOD DAMMIT  
YES  
_

Otabek’s still asleep

Grinning, Yuri lifts his cup to his lips and takes a pleased sip.  
He’ll hang here for a bit before practice, maybe work through the sewage spill that is his phone currently. It’ll already be an improvement from the norm since Otabek is here and he can look over at him whenever he wants while doing it.  
It’s something at least. That fucking ache in his gut is still there though. Hopefully he’ll be able to kiss him before having to leave. 

Yuri takes another quick sip of coffee then starts peeling his jacket of.  
He stops when he sees Otabek stirring.  
_Ugh, no. What.  
Shit. _  
Otabek’s takes a deep inhale, eyes blinking open then narrowing in on Yuri’s form. 

“Hey.” Yuri says it with one arm still dangling stupidly in his jacket. 

Otabek’s eyes pop and he shoots straight up, “Yuri!-“

“ _Whoa_ -“ Yuri puts up a hand and clumsily pulls his jacket the rest of the way off and throws it on the chair. Walking over he messily shucks his shoes off. “It’s cool- I just went and _uh_ -” He points a thumb over his shoulder at the paper cup on the end table next to the couch, “I got you coffee.” 

Otabek’s shoulders ease slightly but he’s clearly still shaken.

Yuri smirks, “What? Think I was taking off, Altin?”

Otabek doesn’t smile back, just falls to the bed, arm over his face.

Unfortunately, it occurs to Yuri afterwards that maybe that wasn’t the best joke to make since he technically did just do that... And nearly irrevocably broke both their hearts in the process.

Yuri leans down, bringing a hand to Otabek’s cheek, thumb stroking along the side, “ _Hey_ -“

Otabek doesn’t move.

Yuri frowns, lowering himself to the bed to lay down next to him. He drapes his arm over and holds tight to Otabek’s middle. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Yuri murmurs peeking up at him.  
Otabek tenses.  
“I mean, I get it. Why you’re—“ Yuri sighs, “I’m sorry.”

Otabek swallows, mouth tight. He lifts his arm off his face but stays locked on the ceiling. 

“Otabek?”  
Yuri starts to worry.  
What if Otabek has thought it through more and realized he doesn’t want to risk it again? Risk getting hurt again? Which, knowing Yuri, he undoubtably will. Because Yuri is an emotional reactive idiot. And maybe after thinking about it he’s realized it’s not worth it. Why would it be?

“I’m scared, Yuri.”

The commentators’ words from the TV behind the coffee bar echo in his head.  
He looks up,  
“Of me?”

Otabek shakes his head, “I know we talked yesterday but- seeing you just then...” He rubs at his eyes, “I don’t want to feel that. Every time.”

Yuri thinks he understands...

“I don’t want to worry every time you leave to get coffee. Or hang up the phone. Or go _and_ -do anything. We’re-“ Otabek’s jaw tightens, “We’re going to argue. At some point.” He looks down at him, “We will, Yuri. We’re going to fight again. I can’t do any of this if I’m going to be scared every time that I’m never going to hear or see you again. You can be angry Yuri, you can hate me even, but if you leave-”

Yuri looks at him helplessly, “I know.”  
He buries his face into Otabek’s side. Squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying ‘sorry’, Yuri but—“

“I won’t leave.” Yuri snaps his eyes open. He’s almost glaring. Glaring at himself for having it done it at all. For making Otabek feel like this. Like he couldn’t depend on him. That he wasn’t loyal. That he wouldn’t be there.  
The one person Yuri ever had. Ever wanted. 

Yuri pushes his head up to look at him.  
“I won’t- fall off like I did, Otabek. I won’t. I promise. I know you can’t believe that just yet, I get that, _but_... trust me, okay? Let me prove it. Because I will. I’ll prove it over and over and over again. Like just now, I left and I got us coffee cause- I mean, I don’t really fucking know why I did it, I just wanted to get you a coffee for some weirdass reason so I did. I got us coffee and then I came right back. So. There. That’s one. Already I got one instance backing me up on this. Just need like- a few more years worth.”  
_Still nothing._  
“And _uh_ \- I guess- ah! Let’s fight about something. I mean it. Right now. Really, pick a topic and we’ll fight about it. And I’ll prove to you that’s also fine- we can fight and I won’t go anywhere. I’ll be right here. Angry- but here. Like, you’ll have to put up with that, which sounds awful, honestly, you might want me to fucking leave but unless you tell me to, I won’t.”  
Yuri sits up on his knees, facing him. “Otabek. I promise. I want this. _I want_ \- I want you.“ Yuri looks down at his fingers nervously pressing into Otabek’s chest, “I know I’m clueless about fucking everything and I’m gonna mess up like... a lot... but it won’t be like that. I won’t mess up like that again. So, please, okay? _Just_ —trust me?”

Yuri holds his breath, waiting.

Otabek furrows his brows but his eyes are soft. He brings his hands up to cradle Yuri’s face. Yuri grips at Otabek’s wrists, still searching. Otabek nods. 

_Sweet fucking christ_  
Yuri tilts his head back and thanks the ceiling or- whoever is staying in the room above him. Thanks, that person. 

He brings his head back down, smiling. One of Otabek’s hands falls from Yuri’s face and trails down his chest, settling on his waist. He has that look. Half admiring half needing.  
Holding himself up by one arm, Yuri leans in and kisses him softly.  
They deepen it gradually, Otabek leading, parting Yuri’s lips and pressing in at the back of his head.  
_More_.  
Yuri brings his other leg over and brackets Otabek’s hips over the covers. Otabek keeps reaching his head up and licking into his mouth. _Fuck_.  
“Otabek-“  
Otabek’s fingers are unbuttoning his pants and reaching in. It’s warm. Always so warm. The weight in him fills and fills. Yuri sucks in a breath and blows it out, feeling Otabek’s grip wrap around him, enveloping him in need. His hips are moving on their own. Slowly. He didn’t realize how much he wanted this.  
Which is stupid.  
Of course he wanted this.  
_Fuck_.  
Yuri whines frustrated and pulls off. He brings his wrinkled tshirt up and over, turns taking his pants off, kicking them to the floor then comes straight back to crush their lips again while grinding into him.  
Otabek groans and slides a hand down to fill it with Yuri’s ass. He leans up on his forearms and starts kissing Yuri’s neck and throat, pushing up more until he’s sitting under, snaking his arm around Yuri’s waist and covering his chest with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.  
Yuri closes his eyes and wraps his arms around him, pressing his lips into the top of Otabek’s hair, rocking into him. Breathing heavy from the pining between his legs for Otabek’s touch and bare skin.  
After twisting his tongue over both of Yuri’s nipples Otabek stills, leaning his forehead against his chest, breathlessly staring down at Yuri’s engorged cock.  
Yuri’s hands slide down Otabek’s back, taking their time to massage against the muscles and groves. When he feels Otabek’s hand go back to his cock he hitches a breath, his nails digging into Otabek’a back.  
“Fuck-“

Otabek tilts his head up, hand beginning to stroke. “Yuri-“

“ _Mm_. No. Off. Covers off. I wanna feel you too.” Yuri pants and sits back, running a hand over his hair, eyes and body craving. Otabek lifts the corner of the bedspread and pulls himself out.

“ _That’s_ \- nice- Yes.” Yuri nods and comes back, not missing a moment. Attacking his mouth and grinding their cocks into eachother. 

Otabek rocks up into him and starts stroking them together, his thumb circling both their heads and smoothing the cum down the lengths of their dicks. Yuri stares down breathlessly, eyes drinking in the sight of both of them hard and aching against the other. Otabek presses them in closer and clenches his jaw as he strokes.  
“ _Oh-_ “ Yuri’s eyes roll into his head and he rocks into him even more. They’re leaking. The sight of their cocks, of Otabek’s cock so generously leaking and dragging it over to Yuri’s tip.  
_Oh- oh fuck._  
Yuri sees blinding light building inside him  
It matches- it matches the sky outside.  
“ _Yes_ -“

Otabek strokes harder. Strokes faster. Kisses his chest and licks at the skin. He brings his other hand up too. Stroking them. Guiding them to orgasm. The feel of each other elevating the pleasure. Letting their heads linger when they drag across each other. 

“Good?” Otabek asks, lips open below Yuri’s throat. 

“ _Yes-_ ” Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, breath lodged in his throat. “ _I’m_ -“

Otabek keeps his pace steady, thumb twisting and fist firm, until Yuri cries, his breath shaking as he spills over himself and Otabek’s cock. 

Otabek groans from watching it and follows seconds later. Mouth open and gasping against his Yuri’s chest, moaning in waves as he releases over Yuri’s spilled orgasm. 

Breathlessly they look down at their mess then break out smiling and laughing lightly. Otabek reaches over and grabs tissues from the end table and cleans them both up, tossing it all into the bin.  
Yuri rakes his fingers through Otabek’s hair, guiding Otabek’s head back to look up at him. 

Otabek stares up with warm open eyes,  
“Thank you for the coffee, Yuri.”, he says it with a sleepy smile, “It’s my favorite coffee.” Then parts his lips as a silent ask for Yuri to kiss him. 

Yuri grins leaning in, “So fucking lame, Otabek. You haven’t even had any.” He kisses him. “Do you still wanna fight?”

“Mm.” Otabek nods.

Yuri sighs, arms still wrapped around his shoulders, “Alright. Well, what are we fighting about?” 

Otabek tucks Yuri’s hair behind his ear, his face clearly too blissed and too relaxed to be anywhere near an argumentative state.  
“Mmm... mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Mm.”

“What- what about them?”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, of course. They’re mushrooms. They’re delicious.”

“Mm. I don’t.”

“You don’t like mushrooms?”

Otabek shrugs and shakes his head, entirely unbothered. 

“What. That’s like saying— ‘I don’t like salt’. Or. ‘I don’t like garlic’. Or. ‘I don’t like- fucking trees’ or something. Mushrooms are everywhere and a quintessential ingredient for most dishes, Otabek. What the hell are you even saying?”

“Mm. I’ll eat them. But if I have a choice I prefer not.”

“I _love_ mushrooms.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, great.”

“It is.”

“I know it is.”

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They hold. Eyes locked.  
Yuri grins first.  
Otabek smiles after him. Face shining like the sun. 

Yuri realizes it might be the first time he’s ever wished that a competition day wasn’t a competition day.

_It’s such a different fucking morning._

...  


**=======**

...  


Making his way down the winding hotel hallways, Yuri spins his room card between his fingers, lost in... _yeah_ \- just all of it, really- he turns the corner to where his roo-

“ _Shit_.”

Katsuki Yuuri is standing at his door.  
Waiting for him.  
“Morning!” Yuuri says it with a cheerful smile. 

God dammit. 

Yuuri would _never_.  
Someone must have put him up to this. Probably someone whose name rhymes with ‘FuckVictor’.  
Quickly, Yuri starts thinking of an explanation. Something to explain why he’s here and not- in there. Not that he’s never been caught not in his room before just- _fuck_ \- this is suddenly so fucking difficult and it really _really _shouldn’t be-__

____

____

Stiffly, he steps up to his room, clicking it unlocked and opening it for-  
Yes. Both of them. Great. 

The moment the door shuts Yuuri puts a hand up, “You don’t have to say anything. They wanted me to check in and make sure you were alright since you haven’t been answering your phone.”

Oh. _Right_. 

Yuri looks down at the floor and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Okay,” he mumbles it uncomfortably and darts his eyes anywhere but on Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri nods and looks like he’s going to take a turn towards the door but stops himself. “Yuri- please, forgive me for this- I know this is uninvited but—“ He takes a deep breath, forcing himself onward, “We all know how much you deserve to have a life outside of all this, Yuri, you don’t owe an explanation to any of us-“ They’re both wincing, both equally hating every minute of this together. “But when it comes to Yakov- _uh, well_ \- he goes from 0 to 10 easily, yes? And if he suspects something is going on with you Yuri, he’s going to go to 1,000.”

 _God dammit_. 

“You- you think he suspects something?  
It’s a stupid question. Yuri was an actual living robot for most of the last two months, never left training, hardly spoke a word, barely touched his phone, and then yesterday touched his god damned hand on the god damned ice during his god damned short program at the god damned Olympics.  
Of course Yakov fucking suspects something. 

Yuuri looks at him like they both know the answer to that. “It’ll stay with Yakov, Yuri. If you tell him. If there’s something worth- him being aware of, you can be assured it will stay with him.”

Yuri bites behind his lip, “Fine. But only cause I don’t want him to think I’ve become an underground drug kingpin or I’m secretly selling photos of my asshole to rich perverts.”

Yuuri face brightens slightly with a held back smile. He gives a short nod. 

Yuri puts a hand at the back of his neck, he can’t believe he’s about to do this. “Yuuri.” He can’t believe he’s about to willingly tell someone who is married to the most ridiculous person on earth that he’s-  
“You can’t tell Victor-”

Yuuri puts up a hand, “ _Oh_ , Yuri, no you really don’t have to tell-“

“It’s Otabek.”

Yuri’s eyes go wide. Then he breathes out a sigh of relief that’s so heavy and so full it’s less of a sigh and more like a prayer of thanks. He smiles wide. “Really?”

Yuri nods. Eyes going to the floor. “Started at the Grand Prix. We’re-“ It’s the first time Yuri is saying it out loud to someone. “We’re together.”

“ _Oh-_ “ Yuuri blinks, “Yuri. This is such happy news.” He’s still trying to catch up with his own relief rolling in. 

“You can’t tell Victor.”

Yuuri’s face goes blank. His mouth turns into a perfectly straight line, “Yuri, I don’t think a truer statement has ever been said. No, I most definitely cannot, under any circumstance tell Victor.” 

Yuri huffs out an exhale, shoulders easing from hearing it. 

Yuuri’s already lost in thought, arms comfortably crossed, heaps more relaxed than how he was moments ago. “It’s _so_ \- Otabek, he’s-“

“perfect, I know.” Yuri looks down, not wanting to seem deluded into thinking he wasn’t aware of the differences in their character. 

“Oh, no. And I doubt Otabek would agree with that statement. I was going to say he’s always understood you. And you him. How lucky it is that you have one another.”

“Yeah.” Yuri winces again, stomach churning. _This_ \- none of this is natural. This is all so _fucking weird_. He pulls a hand through his hair nervously, “Yuuri, since you know now, would _uh_ \- would you tell Yakov? I don’t— I don’t think it’ll work if I do it. Like. My brain. I don’t think it’ll work.”

Yuuri laughs, “Is that the real reason why you told me, Yuri? So you wouldn’t have to tell Yakov?”

Yuri flips his hands out of his pockets like he doesn’t understand why he’s being heckled, “Absolutely.” He nods at his own answer, “Is that weird? Yuuri, just- okay. Imagine me,” Yuri points to himself, “telling Yakov,” He points to the door, “That the reason I’ve been acting so _fucking_ weird lately is because I’m- as in _me_ , Yuri, this one, the one Yakov knows and yells at- _I’m_ trying not to fuck up my- _ugh, God!-_ my relationship.” The way his insides are actually screaming right now— “And on top of it, that relationship- it’s with Otabek. _O-ta-bek_.” He emphasizes each syllable then stands up straight again, “So, yeah, okay, I don’t know Yuuri, maybe there’s a version of me somewhere that could say all that to an Easter Island statue and not pass out mid-way through but I don’t think it’s this one.”

Yuuri grins at the carpet and taps his shoe down, “Alright. Yes. I can tell him.”

“Thank you.” Yuri runs a hand through his hair.

Yuuri shrugs, “Well, with Yakov knowing, at least it’ll be easier for Otabek and you when it comes to coordinating- actually..” He freezes, thinking to himself, “We _could_ start looking at-“

“‘ _Coordinating_ ’?” Yuri’s brow knits. 

Yuuri’s face falls. “Yes.” He leans his head to the side, cautiously gaging Yuri’s reaction, “Coordinating for when you two can see each other? Dates... flights... it’s tricky right now with everything, I know. It must be frustrating for both of you. But as soon as the season ends I’m sure-“

“Yuuri... _Really_?”

Yuuri looks at him like he’s seeing something he’s never seen before, “Of course. You’ll have to.” His eyes turn soft, “ _I_ -,” he takes a breath, collecting himself then tries again, “I know how extraordinary your life has been the last few years, Yuri.” He smiles, “But, let’s work on getting some ordinary parts in there too now, okay?”

...  


**=======**


	11. Part II: 4. Unnatural (2/2)

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

...  


Doors open to reveal a near empty banquet hall save for a camera crew setting up on the far end by the windows.  
With team in tow, Yuri walks over, lifting a hand out from his pocket, shaking their hands and greeting the familiar faces.  
Yuri has sat with this team many times through the years.  
It makes him more at ease than he normally is for these things. As much as he can be at least. It’s always been quick and professional with this group. No obvious desperation for clickbait quotes. 

Once the pleasantries and overview are over Yuri takes a seat, the sound guy pinning a microphone to his jacket.  
“Ready Yuri? We’ll start in 3... 2... 1.. Hello, here with our favorite Russian idol, Yuri Plisetsky today! How are you Yuri?”

Yuri smiles and gives a thankful nod. “Well. Thank you.”

“Are you excited for the free skate tonight?”

“Always,” Yuri keeps his mouth relaxed, consciously steering his smile away from any show of cockiness. 

“Even after all these years! Now you’ve been skating since you were very young-“

“Mm quite. Since I was 6.”

“Incredible. You’d think after this long you’d have gotten used to it, but no, you still get fired up the night of?”

“Absolutely.”

“Now do you have any jitters? Are you feeling worried at all with Otabek Altin leading in first? Did you happen to catch his short program?”

“I did. It was very good. But no. No nerves. I trust we’ll both bring our best and celebrate the victories that follow.”

“You and Otabek have been friends for awhile, haven’t you?”

“Yes”, there was an imperceptible pause before he answered. Only someone watching frame by frame and comparing the timing of his previous answers would have caught it. 

“Such a long friendship the two of you have had! The things you’ve been through together!”

Yuri’s face stays unchanged, “Mm. I think a lot of us here find years long friendships amongst our competitors. We start so young and we’re traveling so much. It’s something to look forward to.”

The journalist nods, knowingly. “Oh absolutely, it must be a real comfort when you’re that young. His story is so inspiring too. It must have been extra special seeing it unfold the way it has”

Yuri is unwavering, a tank, a titanium steel wall. Any sign that Otabek’s cum was shooting into Yuri’s throat last night is completely untraceable, “Of course. I respect him greatly. Always have.”

“Don’t we all! Alright, well, any surprises you can hint for us in your free program tonight?”

...  


**=======**

...  


Breathing easy Yuri sinks his torso deeper between his spread legs, face inches from the cold dirtied floor. Music blares through his earbuds drowning out the world. Not a sound scapes by. Not the sound of the programs performing before his. Not the audience reactions. Not the chatter between his coaches and handlers. Especially not the media guests who continue to stop in, requesting this, that, or something else.  
And while every request for a quote is denied, the compromise has always been to grant camera access. He doesn’t acknowledge them. He never does. But he’s used to warming up as an intrusive lens follows him.  
They’re all more tepid tonight. Which isn’t surprising. They normally are when he’s in this state. But it also makes them more hungry.  
He turns his head to the side and rests his temple to the ground, eyes locked on freshly shined shoes standing at the doorway facing another pair of freshly shined shoes. 

On his next exhale he brings his upper half back up, rolls his neck then draws himself fully over one leg, forehead resting on his shin. 

Yuri gets asked a lot what’s going through his mind before a competition. Most often, he’ll be asked about specific competitions. Ones like this.  
His answer has always been deliberately chiseled into a shapeless half truth-  
_“My country.”  
“Ruminating on the feeling of my program and what it means for me.”  
“How I can push myself to give the best possible program I can.”_  
It all sounds the same. He’s not really sure if it’s an actual sentence anymore. Just words strung together.  
It’s a lot air.  
And hardly the truth.

What Yuri is actually thinking about right now- with his forehead pressed into his leg, music deafening the space between his ears, eyes narrowed on nothing-

He’s thinking about how much better he is than everyone else

He’s thinking about how little everyone else’s blades dent into the ice below  
He’s thinking about the faces who will watch him. The ones that will judge him. Who will see him rise, see him turn, lift, see him execute the moves they defined and never thought possible. He holds onto the moment they realize there is no one else. That this, that what he is and what he’s doing is undeniable. There is nothing, no move, no score, no deduction, or intimidation that will work against him. If anything it only makes him lash back harder. They are nothing. He will prove that they’re nothing.

He pictures their freshly shined shoes  
Their suits and their jewels. Their condescending smiles and the way they tilt their heads. And despite the monster beneath his skin, all their conceptions of beauty come to life in the form of his limbs reaching and his spine stretching... and there is nothing they can fucking do about it. 

There is no one. Not Victor. Not Yuuri. Not Otabek.  
There is no one who is better than him

This is what Yuri thinks about.  
This is why he wins and breaks record after record. It’s because he’s better

But...  
none of that is something he can really say in an interview.

He switches legs. This time his eyes resting on Yuuri’s shoes pointed towards the TV hanging on the wall. Another energetic pair walk over and plant themselves far too close to be anyone other than Victor.  
He frowns at Victor’s socks peeking below the hem of his slacks, thinking about how much thought was undoubtably put into choosing them. 

When he lifts up he sees both Yuuri and Victor in hushed conversation, Victor driving it and Yuuri listening close but not meeting his concern. Yuri ignores it, bringing his legs together lowering himself down again. Victor kneels down and motions to him-

Yuri scowls, taking an earbud out, “I’m trying to focus, Victor, what?”

Out the corner of his eye he sees Yakov putting a hand on the current camera guy’s shoulder and murmuring something to the small crew around him. They nod in response, putting the camera down and quietly pack up.

Victor crosses his arms over his chest, “I just spoke with Otabek’s coach. They moved 3/4 of his jumps to the latter half this afternoon. They’re really pushing for gold this year. He skated wonderfully last night, Yuri. We might want to consider-“

“It’s fine. If I have to add I’ll add.”

“You’ll be subtracting something if you add-“

“Then I’ll subtract.”

“We should discuss _what_ you’ll be taking out before-“

“Victor.” They both turn to look at Yuuri.

The camera crew hurries out of the room, heads down. Yakov closes the door after them, sitting back down and staring grumpily at the TV.

Yuuri continues, “Since when did you start wanting to discuss last minute changes to programs, Victor?” He says it with a playful smile. 

Victor tilts his head down to him, “Yuuri, it will be your choreography he’ll be taking out. If it doesn’t make sense we should-“

“Then I should make some better choreography that he won’t want to take out.” Yuuri says it with shrug, hands loose in his pockets.

Victor shakes his head, putting a hand up like no one is understanding him, “No no, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is we need to strategize the choreography appropriately because it’s our best advantage. Otabek’s jumps are flawless, they always are. Where we’ve consistently outscored him is in our artistry, and that is precisely why we should look over-“

“I won’t touch the choreography.” Yuri stands up, meeting his gaze at perfect height. “I don’t need to. Yuuri and I already worked on alternatives for this exact scenario. You just didn’t happen to be there.” He fingers the earbud in his pocket, “Yakov. Can I get a room without _him_ in it?” Yuri nods to Victor, “It’d be nice if I could focus without being interrupted for no god damned reason.”

Yakov frowns and looks over at Victor. 

Victor sighs and puts his hands up, surrendering with his most punchable smile, “I’m going, no need to switch rooms. Jesus, you would have thought I came in here with fire crackers and a trumpet.” 

Yuuri goes to follow him out but stops and turns back, “You can still take out whatever you want-“

“I know.”

Yuuri nods with a small smile and leaves.

The TV lets him know he’s three programs away. Yakov stands back up, “Stretch, Yura. I’m opening the door, there’s another crew waiting.”

Yuri glowers and sticks his earbud back in, transfixed on the screen. His headshot next to Otabek’s came up with their current rankings under.  
2

He feels a lens on him again, bodies have returned to shuffling in and out.  
He dips down into a lunge, his mind imagining the same headshot with the 2 towering in front of him.  
Fucking 2  
_As if he’s a fucking 2_  
Next he flashes his score from last night in front of him  
Sees it over and over again  
The fury and fire that heaved in his chest  
Then back to the 2  
He switches his legs  
Next he replays his hand going down  
Relives the feeling of the ice biting into his palm  
The collective gasp  
_Yes_  
He stays on it. _That’s good_. He plays it over and over. Forces himself to listen to it. To hear the shock. The shock of him failing. Failing. Falling and failing. He hears it over and over until he can’t. Until it’s drowned out by the music and blood pulsing in his ears.  
Yakov’s at his side.  
Yuri glares not looking at him, saying nothing he stands up and goes to put his skates on.

When he’s walking out to the rink, earbuds still in, he feels that final piece set itself in place. The familiar hardened resolve come over him.  
Those sports commentators from this morning were right. Yuri will win. And he will make history.

...  


**=======**

...  


...  


...  


_There’s something not_ -

Otabek is waiting for his score in the kiss and cry. He gives a smile and wave to the camera pointed at him.  
Yuri hasn’t had a full thought since- he can’t- _There’s something_ -

The stands are on the edge of their seats.  
No one in this arena has breathed or blinked since Otabek’s program ended.  
It’s unnerving how quiet it is.  
Yuri stares at Otabek’s face on the giant playback screen, his skin glistens and his eyes are glued waiting for his score. His coach leans in to say something and he laughs. He says something back and they both laugh harder.  
Yuri keeps feeling Yuuri’s eyes darting to him. Yuri doesn’t look back once. Keeps his face forward and tight. Becoming increasingly agitated the longer it takes.

It all happens at once  
The judges’ score flashes on the screen  
An earth shattering roar comes from the stands  
Otabek rises up, eyes frozen wide, his coach at his side, pulling him into a tight embrace and yelling something into his ear  
Yuri tears his eyes away from the screen and looks over at him  
Otabek eyes are searching over his coach’s shoulder  
He stops when he sees Yuri and- _Otabek_ -  
The biggest most joyful smile breaks across Otabek’s face. Like it finally just hit him.  
Their gaze gets broken by a fellow skater tackling Otabek into a hug. Another reaches over and grabs his face, shouting more shocked congratulations. More of them, running by Yuri and the team that surrounds him, all of them piling onto the celebration surrounding Otabek and his win

Yuri looks out at the empty rink. His mind is a plain gray box. Nothing else. He looks at Yuuri. Yuuri knows. His eyes know.  
Everything feels like it’s in slow-motion  
Media starts hounding in and Yuuri wheels around and puts a hand up to an incoming news outlet. Several others do the same  
Yuri stays exactly where he is, face forward, not moving. His team hastily putting a stop to all incoming cameras and microphones  
The flashbulbs are endless  
Yuri can’t hear anything. Someone might be talking to him right now. He doesn’t know. All he sees is the white of the rink and the Olympic logo burning more and more behind his eyes.

“ **Walk, Yura.** “  
Yakov has a hand on his shoulder. “ **The medal ceremony is next**.”  
Yuri nods and blankly walks to the rink entrance. He sees Otabek speaking happily with a reporter, friendly faces still interrupting him with enthusiastic admiration.  
Yuri stops when he reaches the entrance, Yakov at his side, hand still on his shoulder.  
“ **Go congratulate the other medalists. Shake their hands and congratulate them on their win**.” Yakov says it low, only for Yuri to hear. 

Yuri nods and takes a few steps over to Phichit Chulanont. He reaches a hand out and stretches his mouth to a smile,  
“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Yuri! Congratulations to you, like always! That was such an amazing program! I was gasping in my seat!”

Yuri nods again. No other words coming to him. The audience has not stopped cheering.  
The announcer gets on the speaker to present the upcoming medal ceremony.  
Otabek is walking over, face beaming uncontrollably.

Phichit opens his arms. “Congratulations, Otabek!” 

Otabek steps into them and gives a quick hug. He looks over at Yuri, eyes changing into something else  
Yuri tightens his face but is able to smile more easily than before,  
“Congratulations.” He says it and puts a hand out.

Otabek looks down at his hand, eyes softening, and takes it. He wants to say something but doesn’t. Yuri swallows, consciously keeping his smile in place. Otabek leans in slightly to yell something into his ear, “I’m your biggest fan, Yuri Plisetsky.” He pulls back, eyes dancing over Yuri like he’s about to burst into stardust. “It is always an honor to stand on the podium with you.”

Yuri nods. “Congratulations.” He says it again because it actually might be the only word he knows anymore. Otabek doesn’t seem to mind, he just smiles infinitely back at him. 

The lights dim and someone comes over to tell them to line up in order.  
Yuri turns and stands behind Phichit, Otabek behind him. His face fallen since Otabek is longer in front of it.  
Phichit skates out when his name bellows through the speakers, excitedly waving to the crowd and stepping up to the podium.  
Yuri pushes off next. Lifting his head up and waving to the stands, painting a smile on.  
Otabek skates out and the arena quakes all over again.  
Yuri smiles back when Otabek looks over at him, swallowing down the grayness cementing his mind.

When they pose for photos, Yuri feels his own nails silently digging into Otabek’s jacket. Otabek turns at one point, playing it off as though he’s looking at the stands behind them, and whispers indecipherably from everyone else, “ _You’re beautiful_.”  
Yuri stares out, the space behind his eyes beginning to sting.

...  


Yuuri jogs over to Yuri’s side as soon as the ceremony ends and hands him his shoes. Quickly, Yuri dips down and starts to unlace with Yuuri taking the other. “No interviews. Just go back to the hotel. There’s a car outside.” Yuuri hurriedly murmurs it out, eyes focused on his hands untying Yuri’s laces.

Yuri nods.  
As soon as his feet are freed, he pulls his shoes on and starts to walk, pulling his sweatshirt and track jacket on, bringing the hood up immediately. Yakov and a couple others are waiting for him at the arena exit, they turn and push open the door for him.  
There’s a black SUV pulled up close. But after taking no more than 3 steps outside, Yuri feels a hand pull on his arm and a microphone shove into his face. He whips his head over to see who it is but gets blocked by Victor who just side stepped in front, causing the hand to release him and the camera to back away.

“What a glorious night of performances that all was, yes?” Victor booms to them, arms outstretched, more cameras and microphones trickling in around him. He looks over his shoulder at Yuuri and gives an assuring smile to go on without him. His eyes dart over to Yuri for a briefest of seconds, giving a subtle nod before turning back to the hungry faces and flashing a bright smile. 

Yuri packs in and sits at the far end by the window, pressing his head into the glass.  
Mind still empty, his face burning from inside.

...  


**=======**

...  


It’s not until Yuri is alone, walking down the empty hallway to his room, bag slung over his shoulder, that the steel box locking his brain finally starts to dismantle.

_He knew_.

He knew before the score was announced. It was midway in Otabek’s program when he knew Otabek was going to win. It made sense but it also didn’t-  
Yuri did everything. He did everything he’s always done. He did everything that made him what he is now. _What_ -  
His eyes burn hot.  
What else could he have possibly done?  
He can’t even blame it on the deduction from yesterday. Otabek’s point lead would still have been higher.  
Yuri barely registers that he’s already standing in front of his door. He leans down and presses his forehead against it.  
He did everything.  
His performance was everything it always is. He didn’t miss anything. He had all of them at their knees _what_ -

He pulls his room card out and pushes the door open to step inside.  
Throwing his bag off to the side, Yuri forcibly unzips his track jacket and throws it down too.  
The room shrouds him in darkness, only the lights of the city outside the window blink back.  
He’s so-  
He’s so _fucking ang_ -  
No  
He swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, hand pressing into his head.

He’s sad

He lost and he’s sad

_And there’s_ -  
It’s Otabek. The normal heated fury he could sink himself- he can’t. There’s nothing there. Otabek- he was better than him.

His back slumps against the door behind him and he slides down. Then sits up slightly to pull his phone out from his pocket. The screen flashes on showing notifications for new messages from Otabek along with Yuuri and others.  
He goes to turn the screen off but stops. Choosing instead to bring up his messages and open up his thread with Otabek

OA  
| I want to kiss you  
| I want to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you  
| ily  
| Shouldn’t be much longer, hopefully you’re almost done too?

Yuri brings his phone closer and holds back the stinging for just a few seconds longer, just long enough for him to write out a reply

> already back  
> i love you  
> text when you’re here, i’ll come up

Clicking the screen off, Yuri gently puts his phone down on the floor next to him.  
Then, with the back of his head pressing into the door behind him, Yuri pushes his hands into his face and cries

...  



	12. Part II: 5. ReUnnatural

**=======**

...  


Otabek sits with his heart racing inside his chest. 

When he came off the rink his coach leaned in and said,  
“Otabek, I think you may have just done it.”

It doesn’t seem real. It’s the same feeling he had when Yuri kissed him on the couch.  
Otabek has gotten so close so many times. It was a battle Otabek knew he was never meant to win. Yuri always excelled at all the parts Otabek struggled with. There’s a story when Yuri skates that comes out through his bones and the muscle wrapped around them.  
After so many years, tonight Otabek felt his own story break and finally flow through him all the way down to his toes.  
_My god_  
Maybe this was about to happen

When the score flashes, the arena reacts a split second before he can grasp it.  
He stands, face in shock. His coach embraces him and exclaims over and over, “You did it, Otabek. You did it!”

_Yuri_

Otabek’s eyes search. He needs to find him. They’re all celebrating that he won but Yuri is the one who-  
_Yuri_  
Yuri looks back. Yuri looks back at Otabek with eyes telling him it’s real.  
_It’s real_  
Otabek won  
He has Yuri and he won.  
Pure happiness pours from his chest and he smiles so wide and his eyes get so wet, Yuri’s face begins to blur along with everything else. 

Leo jumps him from the front, “OTABEK! YOU WON! YOU DID IT! YOU WON, OTABEK!” They laugh and grip into each other’s arms. 

JJ’s hands come in out of nowhere, turning Otabek’s face to his, “YOU FUCKING KING! YOU OLYMPIAN KING!”

Otabek sees his sister crying a few feet away, he goes to her and pulls her into a hug. Her shoulders shake under his grip. He thanks her over and over again.  
More bodies start to collide and squeeze, shouting his name with more excited congratulations. Otabek smiles so uncontrollably it hurts.  
His family. His country.  
He did it. He can’t believe he did it. And then tonight he gets to go back to the hotel and hold Yuri in his arms. And kiss him for as long as Yuri will let him.  
_This_  
There is no word for happiness like this.  
Media steps up and he beams, nodding to his team that it’s fine. Of course he can spare some scrambled joyous thoughts. He wants his family to see him thanking them into the camera. It’s important they know how happy he is right now. 

“How does it feel to be an Olympic gold medal winner tonight?”

“Incredible. For so many reasons. I-“ Otabek shakes his head, “It’s a single competitor sport and yet, it doesn’t feel that way. I share this win with so many people- My coach. My family. My competitors-“ another friend breaks in, ruffling his hair and shouting congratulations, Otabek grins and playfully pushes the hand away. He continues, “I’m very grateful and I’m very honored. Thank you.”

He sees Yuri and Phichit standing by the rink entrance for the medal ceremony. Otabek makes his way over, eyes locked on Yuri.  
Yuri was so brilliant tonight. He is always so brilliant. There is no one like Yuri. No one skates like him. No one ever will. Nothing moves and molds Otabek’s heart the way Yuri does when he skates. And Yuri chose him. 

Phichit beams at him and spreads his arms out wide, “Congratulations, Otabek!”

Otabek steps in and hugs him, “Thank you, Phichit. Congratulations to you!”

Yuri controls his face from something underneath. Otabek reminds himself he should to. But he loves him so overwhelmingly and Yuri is so beautiful-

“Congratulations.” Yuri smiles and puts a hand out. 

The words _you’re everything_ pushing behind Otabek’s lips. The arena isn’t even aware of it, but in celebrating Otabek’s win, they’re also celebrating Otabek finally being able to love him.  
He leans in, “I’m your biggest fan, Yuri Plisetsky.” Staring into Yuri’s eyes he hopes Yuri sees the intimacy veiled behind his own, “It is always an honor to stand on the podium with you.”

When they line up and get ready to push out to the podium, Otabek bows his head and stares into Yuri’s back. Wishing more than ever he could dip his head and lean it against Yuri’s shoulder. His fingers flex at his sides, aching to trail against his curve of his spine.  
Otabek closes his eyes and swallows, balling his hands and relaxing them down.  
_It’ll only be a little bit longer_ -

...  


**=======**

...  


Otabek nearly sprints through the hotel when he gets back. Waiting for the elevator is borderline excruciating.  
The minute he exits and is speed walking down the hallway to his room he pulls his phone out and texts Yuri that he’s here. Pushing his door open and all but collapsing onto the couch. Yuri texts back that he’ll be up soon.  
Otabek smiles and sighs up at the ceiling.  
He replays everything. His chest swelling and growing more and more.  
He did it  
He can’t believe he did it  
Otabek leans forward on the couch, buries his face into his hands, and cries.  


...  


**=======**

...  


...  


...  


...  


...  


...  


_Wait_

Otabek’s eyes snap open. 

Yuri

 _He’s_ -

He’s doing it again. That thing his sister always berated him for. The thing he’s already hurt Yuri from. Memories run through his mind. It’s been 3 years since Yuri lost a gold medal. All the things Yuri said to him that night they confessed... The way Yuri looked at him when his score was revealed-  
Smiling. His smile painted over-

Otabek pulls his phone out and hurriedly scrolls back in his messages finding the room number Yuri told him he was in. He stands, memorizes it, then stuffs his phone back into pocket and rushes out the door. 

This time he does sprint. He doesn’t take the elevator, he throws the back stairwell door open and speeds five flights down. 

He runs down the hallways and turns back twice for going the wrong way. When he finally reaches Yuri’s door he pulls his wallet out and fingers through his cards for the spare room key they’d exchanged.  
He slides it in and gives silent thanks to the green light blinking back then pushes himself through. 

Eyes wide. Looking at each other. Otabek steps in letting the door fall behind him.  
Yuri’s stands frozen over his backpack, halfway through wrapping a charging cord up to pack into his bag.  
His eyes are red, cheeks wet.  
He stares confused. And wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand-  
“The fuck? What are you-“

Otabek doesn’t say anything, just walks forward and pulls him in tight. Squeezing him close, and breathing in deep. 

Yuri stiffens, arms at his side but Otabek doesn’t let go or lessen his hold. He knows. Something in Otabek just knows not to let go.  
On Yuri’s next exhale he collapses entirely, holding back just as tight.  
Resting his cheek against Yuri’s hair, Otabek stares out the window over his shoulder, feeling him cry under his arms. Yuri’s fingers dig into Otabek’s back like he’s trying to push it all down but can’t.

Yuri pulls his head back to look at him, eyes streaming, “You- you were incredible. You were. You were fucking incredible. You deserve it. You deserve everything. I’m so-“ he chokes on his sob. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I don’t even know why I’m so-“

“It’s okay,” Otabek smiles and rubs a thumb over his cheek. “I should’ve-“ Otabek sinks into the color of Yuri’s eyes, “I should’ve been here sooner.”

Yuri huffs out a laugh then leans back in to cry again. Otabek squeezes him in tight. 

“Otabek,” Yuri mumbles it into his shoulder, hands grasping at Otabek’s shirt. “I think-“ he hitches a breath and presses his face in more, “I think I might be the bad guy.”

...  



	13. Part III: 1. Congratulations

* * *

**Around 1 Year Ago**

**St. Petersburg**

The bass from the back makes the floor shake in the front  
They told him to come right in  
“Please”  
“Absolutely”  
“Welcome back”  
“Congratulations on your latest victory, Mr. Plisetsky”

Yuri drank beforehand because he’s not an idiot. No ones here for the conversation. And that awkward stiffness before everyones buzzed can be a real fucking mood killer for the rest of the night.  
If he times it just right, with his own pre-buzz and the crowd entering it’s peak, the transition between reality and nothing is practically seamless. 

When Yuri crosses over to the sanctioned off tables, he accepts whatever drink is handed to him-  
Sometimes vodka. Sometimes whiskey. Sometimes a cocktail that tastes like a straight up cavity.  
Then he’ll greet their either too animated or not at all expressions. It’s always the same faces even if they aren’t the same person. They’re all jaded. And hot. Completely insufferable unless there’s booze, low lighting, and a bass that drowns out their voices. And despite what they think, one hundred percent replaceable. Yuri doesn’t care for any of them but when it comes to this kind of recreational act, he prefers them over the alternative. Expectations are different here than if he was with peers from his sport.  
Here-  
Yuri can be cold and judgmental without seeing the person next to him not.  
He can be here one night and disappear forever  
Fame is a bitch and the people in it are insane. But the bar is so low when it comes to this crowd, all his demons and sins melt right in with their trash. 

_It’s all nothing_

The bass drowns out thoughts drowns out fear drowns out everything. It turns to nothing  
And he can forget about tomorrow. About interviews. _About_

Sometimes he does dance  


Sometimes he makes out with someone  


Sometimes he lets a hand slide lower  


Sometimes he tells them _“it’s okay, keep going”_  


Sometimes he backs off and shakes his head no  


Sometimes he goes back to his home or hotel  


Sometimes he’s alone  


Sometimes he’s not  


Sometimes they say something interesting and he’ll listen  
Then they’ll say something that isn’t and he’ll ignore them for the rest of the night

Yuri sweats into his shirt  
Tips his chin up and closes his eyes  
Lets the space inside his skull spin and spin  
He pretends he forgets all the things he dreads  
He pretends gravity releases him  
Letting him float  
Floating higher and higher until he touches the sky

His head goes from spinning to being pressed against cold metal.  
He’s in a stall. Sitting on a closed toilet. Alone. Bass quieter than before. Feet up pressed against the back of the door  
Just chilling here,  
Or catching his breath,  
Or whatever it is.  
He should go home. Maybe bring that one guy back with him  
Or  
_Ugh_. No. He might be too drunk actually 

Two people come stumbling in, cackling drunkenly over the sinks. He glares at their shoes under the stall door.

“Oh my god! Did you see Yuri Plisetsky? I heard he came here but didn’t think we’d get so lucky”

“Fucking unreal how hot he is. Like an angel- but like an angel who fucks, right?”

“Yes!”

Well, okay Yuri is very fucking done with this stupid ass conversation. He leans himself against the wall to get up—

“Okay, but what do you think about Otabek Altin?-“

“Oh my god.”

Yuri sinks back down, legs still up on the door.

“Serious, have you seen him in person?”

“No, I’d die.”

“He’s the same. Like in the ads. It’s the same.”

“I’d fucking die.”

“Ugh. Doesn’t even matter though. He’s seeing someone-“

“Don’t tell me that. Really?”

Sweat creeps up from Yuri’s thighs to his neck.

“Yeah. We saw him at a club in Moscow couple months back. My dumbass friend hit on him. _Obviously_ , he got turned down. But Otabek was like _so_ nice about it and even said it was cause he was seeing someone. I mean, who knows if it’s true. Definitely coulda been a line. My friend is forward as fuck-“

Maybe it’s vomit.  
Or the floor is pooling with lava.  
Or maybe the ceiling is crawling with spiders and they’re dropping on him.  
Whatever it is, Yuri needs to go. He needs to go, he needs to go _right now_.  
He stands, legs remembering how to be legs again and flings the door open.  
Passing bodies and faces, Yuri ignores all of them, doesn’t say anything, grabs his jacket from the table, walks straight out the door—

And runs

...  


**Almaty**

“Give me a reason.”

Otabek stands silent. Hands in his pockets. Eyes reflecting shame. 

“Otabek. I swear, if you don’t give me a reason to stay right now, it’s over. I’m not coming back. I don’t do that. If I leave right now we’re done.”

They both know Otabek doesn’t have one.

He wishes he had something. He wishes he was someone who had a reason. He wishes he was someone who could fight for someone to stay. It would be nice to have a reason. It would be nice for him to have this-  
_But_ -  
He doesn’t. There’s nothing.  
His eyes, his face, his body, all of it says there’s nothing.  
But he is sorry. Incredibly sorry.

“Fine. Don’t call me. Not that you would. I know how busy you are.”

The door slams

And he’s alone. Again.  
He stares down at the floor.  
For two months he tried. He really did.  
_But_ -  
There is something _so_ broken in him.  
He thought he’d give it a real go this time. Meet someone nice and let it progress into something. See if going through the motions would convince the rest of himself that he wanted it.  
It didn’t. In fact it might have just made everything worse.

Maybe he’s just-  
meant to be alone

...  


...  


Yuri runs  
And runs  
Down block  
After block  
Panting  
Cold freezing air gnashing at his face  
He doesn’t stop  
He doesn’t think about it  
Just runs  
He runs all 2 miles back to his apartment

Stumbling inside, gasping for breath, he collapses onto the floor, and rolls onto his back. Eyes blurred up at the ceiling, arms out wide, chest heaving. Potya stalks over and nuzzles against his hand before tumbling onto her side against his ribs. Yuri doesn’t move. Baba Yaga rubs her face against his foot then flops down too.  
They all lay there on the floor together. Like this is all perfectly normal. 

_Shit_. It’d be nice to _not_ cry over something as stupid as this but... he’s pretty fucking drunk so-

He’s said the words to himself so many times, there’s no reason that anything tonight should make them feel different.  
But hearing that baseless fucking gossip-  
That Otabek might have chosen someone to be with...  
Streaks fall down the corners of Yuri’s eyes, down the side of his face, into his ears, his hair, the floor.  
Someone gets to be with Otabek. Feel him and kiss him and talk to him whenever they want...  
Yuri’s breath shakes  
It isn’t Yuri. It will never be Yuri.  
No matter what friendship they had or how it felt for him, it wasn’t enough for Otabek to want more.  
Otabek doesn’t want him  
Otabek will never want him  
Yuri smells like vodka and a sweaty loud nightclub. Yuri cries on floors while looking desolately up into ceilings.  
It’s been how fucking long and he’s still reminding himself of this shit?  
Otabek is right  
Yuri isn’t someone Otabek would ever-  


...  


...  


Otabek takes one more long look at the door, a part of him wishing he could feel anything for it having been shut moments ago.  
But still, he doesn’t. The only part he feels something for is not feeling anything.  
He concedes, finally turning away.  
With his head hung low, Otabek crosses to the kitchen, tiredly getting himself a glass of water and losing himself to his thoughts-

 _It’s nonsensical_. For him to be thinking what he is is wholly nonsensical.  
He shouldn’t still be doing this. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But it’s where his mind goes first. Especially right now. He thinks about the person who wants nothing to do with him.  
He leans down and presses his forehead into his hand.

_Don’t  
He won’t write back  
Don’t-_

Otabek squeezes his eyes shut  
_Don’t make him run further_  
He feels something now. He felt nothing when the door slammed but he feels plenty now  
_Don’t_  
Otabek looks up and stares painfully into his cabinets  
_Don-_  
He pulls out his phone  
_Stop_  
He scrolls to their thread and opens it  
_Nothing will change_  
He brings up the keyboard and starts typing  
_He doesn’t want it_  
He deletes it twice then writes another  
_You don’t have a chance_  
He deletes everything except one word  
_Why would Yuri want you?_  
He presses send  
And stares into the screen  
_Please...  
Please, Yuri_  
Otabek stays. Pleading.  
_Please  
I can’t-_

Nothing

There are so many logical reasons for the lack of response. The 3 hour time difference. How late it is. Sleeping or busy.  
It doesn’t matter. Otabek knew it was pointless. It’s always pointless.  
Yuri never responds  
Yuri doesn’t want to talk to him  
Yuri outgrew him  
Yuri finds him uninteresting. Maybe even uncomfortable  
Otabek glares into the wall, anger for himself building in his chest, he balls his hand into a fist and pushes his phone off the counter, refusing to look when it crashes down to the floor.  
He stalks off, pulling off his shirt, and face planting onto his bed  
_Why_  
Why does he still do this

There really is something _so broken in him_

...  


...  


Yuri feels his phone vibrate.  
_Jesus_  
Too fucking late for that  
Don’t they all know he’s occupied right now? That he’s busy? Busy being mutilated from the inside out?  
He sighs, pulling it out anyway—

‘Otabek Altin  
1 Message’

Yuri shoots up  
_How-_  
Potya looks up at him pissed  
_Otabek_  
Yuri hurriedly goes to the thread  
_Don’t-  
Don’t fuck with me-  
Please don’t fuck with me-_  
He opens it and reads—

| Congratulations

Yuri huffs out a laugh,  
“Are you fucking kidding me?“  
It grows. Every second he looks at it the rage builds more and more. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” He goes to throw his phone but can’t so he squeezes it in his fist instead, holding his breath.  
Yuri’s heart cracks and breaks every fucking time he hears Otabek’s fucking name. He has no one. He’s alone. He had one person. One person. One person that he had to give up because it ached him inside like a god damned plague. Yuri cries and dreads everything more and more every day. And what Otabek chooses to send is a charity text that’s a cheap pat on the head.  
He yells out a sound then points at the screen “Fuck you, Otabek! Fuck you, _fuck you_ -“ he drops his phone to the ground.  
He lays back on floor again, tears rolling down his face, “I hate you.”  
It’s always something like that.  
Always polite. Friendly. Meaningless.  
That’s what Otabek sends him. 

When Yuri closes his eyes he hates that what he sees are messages he wished Otabek had sent instead...

Yuri looks down at his phone and reads what Otabek sent—  
| I miss you

Yuri looks down at his phone and reads what Otabek sent—  
| Can we talk?

Yuri looks down at his phone and reads what Otabek sent—  
| Yuri, I think I

Yuri’s eyelids sink lower. He turns to his side and spoons Potya to his chest.  
After some time he finally stops crying, exhausted and depleted with his eyes thoroughly drained.  
With limp arms he picks up his phone and goes back to the thread  
_Fuck you_  
> congratulations

...  


...  


Otabek sees a light glowing from the kitchen floor  
_Don’t-_  
Pulling the covers off, he gets out of bed and softly pads over. He kneels, picking his phone up.  
_Yuri  
Plea-_

| congratulations

He blinks  
And then stands, phone clutched in his hand with his expression unchanged. He walks back to his bed with the screen still on.  
Carefully, Otabek sets it on the charger and clicks it to sleep. He pulls the covers back over himself and looks up into the ceiling.  
_It’s not nothing at least_. He’s grateful it’s not nothing.  
Still, when Otabek closes his eyes he imagines the message being something else instead...

Otabek looks down at his phone and reads what Yuri sent-  
| I miss you

Otabek looks down at his phone and reads what Yuri sent-  
| I think about you

Otabek looks down at his phone and reads what Yuri sent-  
| Otabek, I want

_”Otabek, I want you”_

* * *

**Present**

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

Yuri can tell Otabek is struggling on an response. He can tell because Otabek’s brows have shadowed his eyes entirely and his mouth is pulled into a perfectly straight line. When Otabek is struggling on a thought he looks like he’s on the brink of solving a years long murder case weeks before retirement.  
Yuri doesn’t need an answer though. He hopes Otabek doesn’t have one. Because Yuri having been a villain in all this isn’t something that needs to be debated.  
He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.  
Right now it just feels bad. 

Yuri dips his head and leans in again wrapping his arms back around Otabek’s shoulders.  
His head still feels hazy and he isn’t sure if he’s still even attached to his body but-  
Otabek is _so fucking warm_  
Yuri closes his eyes

“It’s okay.” Yuri murmurs it into Otabek’s shirt. “ _Just_ \- don’t be sad that I’m sad, okay?”

Otabek pulls back, unwrapping an arm to guide Yuri’s face to look at his. Otabek shakes his head, brows still forward, “You-“

The chime on Otabek’s phone goes off. 

“Ah! Sorry.” Otabek keeps one arm on Yuri’s back, holding him close, and uses his other to reach into his pocket and silence the ring. 

Yuri sniffs, pressing his cheek into Otabek’s shoulder, hugging him back tight, “You can take it.”

Otabek shakes his head and tries to adjust himself prior to his phone going off- pulling back and looking into Yuri’s face. “Mm, it’s fine-“

“Who was it?” Yuri rubs at his eyes. 

“ _I_ \- I don’t know-“

“Who?”

Otabek frowns and repeats his movements from before, pulling Yuri in close with one arm and dipping his other back into his pocket. He pulls his phone out to read. “Just more family-“

“Call them.”

“Yuri,” Otabek huffs a light laugh, “it’s alright. I’ve already talked with them. They don’t expect-“

“Call them.” Yuri braces himself against Otabek’s shoulders to keep himself from falling into his arms like the freakish sacred holy place they are. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and nods determinedly, “Otabek. Call them.”

Otabek struggles. “It’s really not a-“

“Otabek.”

Otabek relents with a sigh. Backing up a couple steps he sits down on the edge of the bed, his attention unenthusiastically going to his phone to return their call. 

Yuri moves to give Otabek some space but sees Otabek still hasn’t let go of him, his fingers loose along his forearm.  
_Maybe he forgot Yuri was still here-_  
Otabek hits the call button and brings his phone up to his ear.  
Yuri stands stiff between Otabek’s spread legs. Unsure whether to pull himself free _or_ -  
Otabek seems wholly unbothered with Yuri being so close. Going right into his native tongue, giving a cheerful greeting to the voices on the other line, no sign at all that the silver Olympic medalist is here crying like the saddest of assholes in front of him.  
Absentmindedly or intentionally, Otabek presses against the middle of Yuri’s back, bringing him in closer. _Intentionally_ \- it was intentionally. Otabek presses his forehead against Yuri’s abdomen, eyes closing. Not once letting his conversation falter from it. 

Yuri listens, trying to follow along while letting his fingers run through Otabek’s hair.  
Otabek plants a silent kiss by Yuri’s naval.  
It feels nice. All of it.  
That unbearable sadness he had moments ago isn’t crawling up his throat anymore.  
Partially because Otabek and his fucking half space heater half human body but also because Yuri likes knowing Otabek’s family got to talk to him and tell him... nice things. Even if Otabek had already heard it before. He deserves to hear it all again.  
Otabek tilts up to look at him, soft knowing smile from whatever he’s being told on the other end.  
_Mm_.  
Someone said Yuri’s name. Otabek says his name too, earnestly agreeing with whatever complimentary thing was just shared. 

Yuri watches his fingers rake through Otabek’s hair, stopping occasionally to massage the space above his ears.  
_It’s strange_  
Yuri’s fingers have never practiced nor do they have any history of moving like this over someone’s scalp. There was no lesson on what spots to massage or how much pressure to apply.  
If he didn’t know they were attached to him he’d assume they belonged to a person who knows how to care for someone else.  
He doesn’t. Yuri definitely doesn’t.  
But for some reason. When it comes to Otabek... he does.  
_Maybe._  
Yuri brushes Otabek’s hair back and cradles his head, Otabek meets his eyes and smiles partly to him and partly to whatever’s being said to him on the other line.  
Yuri feels sadness crawling back up his throat. But it isn’t the same as before.  
This thing he’s holding in his hands right now. This perfect fucking thing that barely ever moves and never looks anxious.  
How could anyone ever discount this? How did he? How could Yuri fall so fucking in love with Otabek while simultaneously getting so entirely swallowed up by his own ass? 

Otabek darts his eyes down, saying his goodbyes and ending it with his thanks. Once it’s gone quiet he reaches over and sets his phone on the nightstand, coming back with a sigh and wrapping both arms around Yuri’s waist.  
He smiles, “They said you-“

Yuri leans down and kisses him.  
Otabek makes a surprised sound but quickly responds by cradling Yuri’s face closer.  
Yuri kisses without any escalation. Relishing him. Lips soft and opening slow. Otabek’s fingers graze Yuri’s side, following Yuri’s pace. 

Otabek stops, “How can you possibly be the bad guy, Yuri?” He murmurs it against Yuri’s mouth, “When you kiss me like this?”

Yuri shakes his head, “You’re the only one.”

Otabek smiles at him, “I can be the only one.”

Yuri turns serious and kisses him harder. A faint moan echoing out his mouth. Otabek moans back, fingers pressing hot into Yuri’s lower abs, still holding himself at Yuri’s pace.  
Breaking it, Yuri pulls back and looks into Otabek’s face, with a silent ask 

“Yuri-“ Otabek leans his forehead in and brushes Yuri’s hair back. He kisses Yuri’s nose. “We’re both tired. And we both know how taxing tomorrow will be.”

“No. _Otabek_ -“ Yuri settles over him, straddling his lap, his arms wrapped around his neck. He kisses Otabek’s ear, “I want to.” He tugs lightly at Otabek’s bottom lip then reaches in with his tongue and strokes inside his mouth. Otabek responds with a pained moan, kissing and stroking his tongue back. Yuri’s fingers inch to the bottom of Otabek’s shirt. 

“ _Ah_ -“ Otabek pulls back again and holds Yuri’s head between his hands. “You’re tired, Yuri. I can tell-“

“No I’m not-“

“You already told me you didn’t sleep the day before last. And now with today and then tomorrow’s media rounds starting at dawn- you need to sleep. Besides, _I_ -“ Otabek softens and kisses the skin under Yuri’s eye, then whispers while his fingers grip achingly into Yuri’s waist, “When I’m in you again- I want to go slow. _I want to_ -“ Otabek curves in, eyes narrowed on Yuri’s mouth, “I want to savor you, Yuri. There are _so many things I’ve wanted to do_ -“

Yuri closes his eyes the minute they start rolling into his head. His fingers claw frustrated at Otabek’s shirt. He whines and pulls back. Brows furrowed at Otabek’s clothed chest.  
Otabek smiles, and brings one of Yuri’s grasped hands to his mouth to kiss.  
“Look at me-“

Yuri looks up, mouth frowning. “I’m not tired.”

Otabek laughs behind his closed lips. “Mm.“

“I’m not!”

Otabek falls onto his back and lets out a sigh. “Come here then.”

“No.”

Otabek laughs. “Yuri, if you’re not tired, I don’t see how laying down next to me would suddenly change that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Hm,” Otabek‘s eyes dance over Yuri’s face “Just me then”. He sits up, freeing his legs out from under Yuri’s weight, then takes off his shoes and socks. He slides himself up on the bed and stretches out, head comfortably resting on the pillows behind him. 

Yuri stays sulking right where he is. Just because his eyes burn and only feel good when he closes them doesn’t mean he’s tired.  
Otabek lays peaceful, hands clasped and resting on his stomach.  
Just looking at him makes Yuri’s eyelids hang heavy. _That’s_ -  
_That’s not fair_ -  
Yuri crawls over, his mouth in a permanent frown and nestles himself into Otabek’s side. Without opening his eyes Otabek silently unclasps his hands and lifts his arm, inviting Yuri in. Yuri frowns more, inching in to rest his head half on the pillow and half on the space near Otabek’s shoulder. _God it’s so warm_. He drapes his arm across Otabek’a chest.  
Otabek’s smiling, Yuri can sense it. And all of Yuri’s frowning dissolves the moment Otabek’s hand starts stroking his hair- _the way he does._  
_Fuck_  
“How did you know I was tired?” Yuri mumbles it out, keeping a sliver of his eyes open. 

“The corners of your lips turn down. And you pout.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Mm.” Otabek kisses his head. “Yes, you do.”

Yuri refuses to let his eyes close all the way, he presses his fingers into Otabek’s pectoral. “I could still have sex right now.”

Otabek grins, “I know.”

“I could. I’d just have to be on top-“

Otabek sucks in a breath like he’s holding back imagining it. “You’d fall asleep midway, Yuri-“

“Otabek.”

“Hm?”

“You look really good when you win-“ Yuri finally lets his eyes close. “I think it’s the only time I’ve ever agreed with so many people all at the same time.”

He can feel Otabek’s breath stop. His fingers still themselves in Yuri’s hair. Yuri watches Otabek’s chest slowly fill itself again, “ There is no one like you out there, Yuri. No one does what you can. There never will be. You defy everything.”

Yuri smiles, eyes still closed. “Says Otabek fucking Altin.”

Otabek’s lips press into his head and stay. 

Yuri’s eyes open part way, “Fuck. All I could say to you was ‘congratulations’.” He twists his head up to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

Otabek strokes a thumb over his cheek and shakes his head, “There’s nothing to apologize for-” 

“No. You deserve- you deserve more. I wish I had said something- _Jesus_ \- I wish I said fucking anything at all.”

Otabek brushes his hair back with a quizzical look, “What did you want to say?”

Yuri doesn’t even have to think about it, “That you were fucking perfect. That I’ve been obsessed with the way you skate since I first saw it and now even more. You’re so different from the rest of us-” Yuri bites behind his lip, “What you do with the ice- it’s like you’re telling it where you want to go. The rest of us just navigate it. But you direct it- like ‘dip there’ or ‘lift here’.” Yuri lets his head fall back down and stares across the room, “There’s this- power in you, Otabek. When you land your jumps the whole fucking ground shakes.” Saying all this might have actually drained any last bits of energy Yuri had. But it feels good to say something that’s so clearly defined for him especially when so much of himself tonight feels loose and floating inside his skin. “It’s hot. You’re hot, Otabek. We should have sex.”

Otabek laughs lightly, holding Yuri in place. He takes a deep breathe, “ _I_ \- I think- _ah_ -you made me speechless, Yuri. _That_ \- It means everything. From you it means everything.”

“When I said we should have sex?

“Yes. That too. Always.”

“Well, I’m ready whenever-“ Yuri mumbles. 

“Mm.”

“Just- waiting on you...” Yuri lets his head sink deeper then stirs himself to keep awake. His eyes are gone though. Those are permanently closed. “Wait. Do you remember that time you told me ‘congratulations’?” 

“Hm?”

“You texted me. It was like, 2 in the fucking morning or something. You wrote ‘Congratulations’.” He senses Otabek still. “Did something- what the fuck was that?” 

Otabek covers Yuri’s hand draped across his chest. “We can talk about it more when we’ve both slept. But, in summary, I was alone and pining. I- _god_ \- I wish I hadn’t sent you ‘congratulations’. There’s so much I wish I could go back and-“

“What did you want to send?” Yuri’s breathing stretches out, his mind beginning to drift. 

Otabek sighs, and runs his fingers through Yuri’s hair, “That I missed you,” Otabek kisses his head, “I wanted to ask if we could talk,” Yuri lets out a sound, “I wanted to tell you that I think I might be in love with you.”

Yuri sleeps with the words he imagined that night on the floor now echoing with the words he just heard Otabek say. 

_“Yuri, I think I might be in love with you”_

...  



	14. Part III: 2. This is Tolerable

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

...  


_Kissing_ -  
There’s kissing...  
On his face-  
Yuri groans and blinks his eyes open. “Otabek...” He rolls more into the pillow. 

“Your alarm is going off, Yuri.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” Otabek kisses up his neck and nips at a part that makes Yuri curl in. 

Yuri rolls back over looking grumpily up at him. “Otabek, you look the same as you did when you went to sleep.” 

Otabek hums into his ear, “I got up first,” he leans in to kiss him. “I’m headed back to mine. There’s coffee there for you.” 

“What?” Yuri turns to his nightstand squinting at the fresh cup, “No. That’s my thing-“ 

“Today it was mine.” Otabek kisses his cheek before pushing off the bed and bending down to put his shoes on. “Your phone’s been-“ 

“Fucking awful- _god_ -” Yuri yawns, unplugging it and sitting up against the headboard. 

Otabek pauses, “You should check your email.“ 

“Uh huh. You’re gonna need to be more specific...“ Yuri scrolls through his pages of unopened messages. 

“Subject has the words ‘joint interview’.” 

Yuri finds it and reads, brows furrowed. “... Didn’t we do this before?” 

Otabek nods. “Mm, last Olympics. Looks like we’ve been invited back.” He stands up and walks back to the bed. 

Yuri looks up from his phone, watching Otabek lean in, “Did you already say yes?” 

“I was waiting on your answer. I didn’t want them to put pressure on you had I agreed first.” 

Yuri cocks his head to the side, blush blooming in his cheeks, “Too fucking early to be thoughtful like that, Otabek... I’m gonna tell them yes.” 

“Mm.”  
They grin at each other. 

Yuri sends a quick group text to Yuuri and a couple others letting them know. “Done.” 

Otabek pulls out his phone to do the same. “Done.” 

“Guess I’m seeing you at 3 then.” Yuri stretches up then points a finger in the shape of a handgun, squinting as he aims, “Whatever you do, don’t look at me like you want to fuck me.” 

“So don’t look at me like you want me to.” They stay fixed, ignoring their phones vibrating under them. Otabek breaks first, motioning a nod to him, “How are you feeling?” 

Yuri blinks, “Oh, uh-“ he sweeps his hair to the side, “Fine. I dunno. I’m okay.” He gives a blank shrug, “I mean, hard to know, I might slam my head on a table at some point today— Also considering accusing you of cheating-“ 

“Cheating?” Otabek’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Well, yeah. It’s obvious my asshole has some sort of performance enhancing effect and it isn’t fair to the other-“ Otabek pushes Yuri down on the bed and throws a pillow over his face. Yuri twists and flings the pillow off his head, “ISU _needs to know_ , Otabek! _Jesus_! We_have_to_play_fair!” He watches Otabek crossing fast towards the door, then breaks out grinning when Otabek looks back. “I’ll see you at 3.” 

Otabek bows his head down and pulls the door open. But before it’s wide enough for him to step through he flicks it closed and walks back to the bed. 

The smile Yuri breaks out into is so wide it actually feels like it’s gonna crack his whole face open. Yuri watches Otabek pointedly cross back over to him, the muscles in Yuri’s face not used to stretching like this at such an ungodly hour in the morning. When Otabek dips in Yuri’s arms immediately go up to wrap themselves around his neck and Otabek kisses Yuri like he’s going off to fucking war. Holding Yuri’s face and running his fingers through Yuri’s hair like he wants to store it for himself so he can last through the day. Their tongues greeting each other, and greeting each other, and greeting each other. Yuri shifts back, spreading more for him, his back arching, already wanting. Otabek rolls his hips only once then dips down to bite into Yuri’s waist and pushes himself off the bed. Again. 

They stare breathless at one another, Yuri’s eyes glinting mischievously and Otabek looking like he’s seconds from breaking whatever’s holding him back. “I have to go.” 

Yuri nods, imagining him naked. “Yeah.” 

Otabek starts walking backwards, “I’ll see you.” He turns to the door, his fingers on the handle. 

“Hey! Try not to think about how all _I’ll be thinking about_ is how much I wanna be under you while you fuck yourself in my mouth.” 

Otabek freezes and tilts his head up to the ceiling.  


Yuri grins wickedly, watching as Otabek’s hands ball up at his sides. “ _Please_ , don’t think about that. It’d be such a shit thing to think about during that interview we’ve got later.” 

“Mm-“ Otabek looks over his shoulder, “Funny you say that because I’ll already be thinking about something similar.” 

Yuri rests his cheek against the pillow, tongue curling behind his teeth, “Really?” 

“Mm.” Otabek turns around and leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest, ”Except, for me, I imagine sitting you down in that chair over there,” He nods to the arm chair in the middle of the seating area, “Spreading your legs open, going down on my knees, and swallowing all of you.” His eyes narrowing on Yuri’s, “I really- _really am looking forward to seeing you tonight, Yuri_.” 

“ _Oh_...” Yuri’s mouth parts open, “okay.” 

Otabek gives him one last look, “I’ll see you at 3.” Then turns and closes the door after him. 

Yuri’s dick is an idiot who hasn’t figured out that Otabek has already left 

_Shit_

...  


**=======**

...  


“It’s early morning here in Oslo, Norway where we are continuing our coverage of this year’s Winter Olympics. We have Russian figure skating world champion, two time Olympic medalist, model, social media influencer, all around mega star, Yuri Plisetsky with us this morning. My kids will not stop texting me about it. Yuri, how are you?”

“Doing well. Thank you.” 

“You had a big night last night. Are you glad it’s over?”

“ _Ah_ \- yes and no. I’ve always enjoyed the competition but being here afterward, you know, with everyone, it’s a very unique experience. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, I hope you can get some well deserved rest especially after the performance you gave last night. We were in the stands, and I’m telling you, you could hear a pin drop. The tension was at an all time high. I’ve never seen anything like it. The two of you were absolute dynamite out there. Was the outcome a surprise for you?”

“Not winning gold?“ Yuri flashes a grin, “Ah. I mean, it’s certainly been a few years. But, Otabek is an incredible skater. We all saw his program last night, and all of his programs through the years. Him placing first shouldn’t come as much surprise for anyone, myself included.”

...  


...  


“Yuri Plisetsky, it is such an honor to have you here with us this morning. I saw the crowd outside gave you a very warm welcome when you got here. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“I have to say, I know a lot of your fans were disappointed with the 2nd place but- you sir, are rocking that silver pretty well-“

Yuri looks down, “ _Ah_ \- thanks. Someone out there actually said it was more flattering on me than gold.”

“No. Tell me someone didn’t say that to you? A fan?”

“No, yeah, I swear. Just out there. She said it was better with my skin tone.”

“Well, there we go. Sounds like you’re still coming out first. Take that, Otabek Altin.”

...  


...  


“We are always so excited to have you with us at the studio, Yuri. How are you? Did you get a good rest? You worked hard out there last night.”

“I did. I feel rested. Thank you.”

“Well, let me just say, obviously, all of us here have been your biggest fans since you were, you know, _this_ big. And last night was no exception. It was such an extraordinary performance. We all, you know, tossed our hats in and sat back, like, no way could anyone beat that. _And yet_ -“

Yuri smiles, “And yet. Yes. Apparently it was beatable.”

“It’s been awhile for you, since you finished a competition not in first place. Was there any strong emotion you felt when you were up on that podium?

“ _Uh_ \- it all happens so fast. I think even when I’ve won, it can be hard to fully comprehend everything until a few hours later or a week or- even more. But, if there was any standout emotion I’d say it was- simply a need to get better.”

...  


...  


“Hello Victor. Are you already inside? Yes, we’re just pulling up now. _Oh_ \- that’s the biggest crowd we’ve seen all day,” Yuuri surveys the scene from out the car window phone pressed to his ear. “Is Otabek’s team already here?-“

Yuri snaps his head from his phone and looks out too. There’s an identical SUV pulled up where they’re headed. Looks like they got here all around the same time. Yuri spots Otabek just starting to make his way down the crowded barricades, happily signing and taking photos.  
Yuri looks at Yuuri but turns away fast, hiding whatever doofus look is threatening to break through on his own face. The last time he was here there definitely wasn’t this feeling. Like a tiny baby feather tickling in his intestine.  
Yakov turns around from the passenger seat and silently looks down at Yuri’s leg. _Oh_. Yuri stops it from bouncing and bites inside his lip instead.

The minute the car pulls up, Yuri opens his door and steps out. The crowd gives a warm welcoming cheer to him. Otabek turns to look.

Yuri smirks at him.  
“Well, this is awkward.” He says it loud enough for Otabek to hear and whomever else too. The laughter following doesn’t even bother him. 

Otabek grins to himself and shakes his head, going back to signing the photograph he’d been handed moments before. “Good to see you, Yuri.” He shouts it over his shoulder. 

“Mm. You too, Altin.”  
Yuri strides over to the barricade across from him, greeting the faces and signing the objects they start to hand him. Someone from his team whispers a time limit of 15 minutes. He nods and continues. Smiling, thanking, listening and holding up cameras. Now and then he’ll peek over his shoulder to see how far Otabek has gone, picking up his pace to match.  
Once they reach the end, Otabek moves to cross over to the side Yuri is finishing up on but pauses when he sees a small child holding up a poster of a skating Yuri Plisetsky a couple steps outside the barricade.

“Yuri, I think you have a fan.” Otabek says smiling.

“Yeah. I saw,” Yuri gives one more grin to the person he was signing a tshirt for and snaps the lid on a pen. He turns around and casually walks over to where the kid is standing with his mom. When Otabek passes Yuri he has a look that says he’s far more enamored about this than Yuri is.  
Yuri stops in front of this very small child gaping up at him, “Hey,” He smiles and kneels down.

The kid drops the poster he’s holding the minute Yuri is eye-level, “Yuri Plisetsky, will you come to my birthday party?” 

Yuri doesn’t miss a beat, “Yup.” 

He sees someone from his team panicking and beginning to step in. He also sees the kid’s mother wide-eyed and beet red.  
“ _Ah, wait_. Sorry. Look, I won’t be able to make it. But-“ Yuri picks up the poster and looks it over, “I do know a DJ who might be available-“ He catches Otabek smiling from it as he continues to greet fans a few feet away. Yuri uncaps his pen and starts to sign the poster, “What’s your name?”

“Yuri.”

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks at the mom who is shaking her head and covering her face with her hands. “It’s not, it’s Erik. I’m so sorry.”

Yuri shrugs. He doesn’t give a shit. “You want me to sign this with your name being ‘Yuri’, Erik?”

The kid nods back like he doesn’t reeeeally understand what he just got asked. Yuri does it anyway. “Alright, ‘to Yuri’-“ He reads out loud as he’s signing, “Here, you wanna hold this while I sign?” Yuri stops to hand this small Erik child the medal dangling from his neck. Erik nods like before and holds it in his hands like it’s the world’s greatest most secret treasure, Yuri stretches his neck so Erik can hold it closer to his face while he signs the poster. Once Yuri finishes he smiles and holds it up for the mom to take. _Oh_ , she’s full on crying now. Yuri is always amused when parents get more emotional over their kids meeting him than the kids do.  
Yuri nods when she asks if she can take a photo. “Of course.” Erik-small-boy-child, is still transfixed on Yuri’s medal, and barely looks up when his mother steps out and snaps them together. 

Yuri doesn’t want to interrupt whatever important studying this child professor of rare metals is doing so he stays where is but signals to a group of fans who are trying to get his attention. He flashes them a wide smile and motions to someone from his team to bring over the posters and other memorabilia the fans are holding so he can continue signing from where he is.  
“You want a medal some day, Erik?”

Erik nods.

“Yeah?” Yuri continues signing items being handed to him, “What do you want to get a medal in?” 

“Dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Yeah!”

Yuri shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll be rooting for you Erik. If anyone can get a medal in dogs it’s you.” 

Otabek comes back around but stops to greet them again. The mom blushes furiously and pulls out something and asks if Otabek will sign it for her.  
Yuri points a thumb over at Otabek, “Hey, Erik. That’s Otabek Altin, you want his autograph too?”

“Not really.”

Yuri chokes and blows out a raspberry, head bowing down with a hard belly laugh. He looks up at Otabek who looks like someone just turned him down for a school dance. Yuri laughs harder. The mother is horrified and apologizing profusely. Otabek shakes his head, smiling politely, and saying that it’s all fine. He gives a final wave to the crowd before stepping inside.

Yuri says his goodbyes and follows quickly behind, his team in tow. He catches up to Otabek and slows his pace down. Before he can say anything someone with a headset starts escorting them down the halls. Both their teams shuffling around them as they walk. 

Yuri stuffs his hands in his pockets and grins. “I dunno if you heard- but I asked that kid if he wanted your-“

“I heard.” Otabek doesn’t look at him. Clearly still bitter.

Yuri bites back another laugh, “He didn’t even need to think about it.”

Otabek shakes his head, “It’s not fair, Yuri.”

“What? Why kids like me so much?” 

“Yes. You don’t even like kids.” Otabek’s envy is sharp on his tongue.

“Yeah, but I’m cool.” Yuri argues like it’s obvious. “You’re really jealous aren’t you? What, you wish they showed up for you all the time?”

“Yes! It’s so sweet, Yuri. They bring you stuffed cats and they look at you like- their dreams are coming true.” Otabek’s eyes look wet, like the thought of it might make him cry, “He had that big poster of you, Yuri, and asked if you’d go to his birthday party-“

“Oh right- hey, Yuuri?” Yuri turns around to Yuuri, walking backwards, “Did we get their address so we can send something?” Someone shouts out that they did. Yuuri nods after them. “Sweet.” Yuri turns front facing again.

“What will you send?” Otabek asks it as they both wave to some crew members looking excited and overwhelmed at the sight of both Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin casually walking down the hallways side by side just as they are.

“I dunno. He was like 2, right?”

“Yuri, no. He was definitely not 2. He was standing outside holding a poster, what 2 year old could do something like-“

Yuri flips his hands out of his pockets, “Well, I don’t know! I’ll get him vodka or something. “Yuuri-“ Yuri turns around again, “Let’s send him vodka.”

“No.” Yuuri and Otabek say it at the same time.

Yuri rolls his eyes and turns back. “Okay, so what do kids that are- whatever age that kid was, even like? Besides me?”

“We should send him something of yours, Yuri.” Yuuri suggests it behind him.

“ _Ah_. So I’ll sign one of my own bottles of vodka and we’ll give it to him, I see.”

“No.” Yuuri and Otabek say it again.

They round a corner, getting close to the sound stage. Someone hands Yuri a blazer. Yuri takes it and pulls it on, adjusting the collar and smoothing it down. Out his peripheral he sees Otabek dart his eyes over.

Yuri smirks, looking down at the buttons on his sleeves. He ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “ _Watch it_ ,” he says it low with the tiniest hint of threat. 

“Mm.” Otabek clenches his jaw and swallows down something. They give a polite nod to one another and split to separate rooms.

...  


...  


“Great to have you both here with us again. That was quite a night the two of you had. We’ve got a lot to cover. Otabek let’s start with you. Has it sunk in yet? Do you feel like an Olympic gold medal winner?”

“No. Not at all. It’s too soon I think,” Otabek nods to him, “I look forward to the moment I do.”

The interviewer smiles back, “Did you have a feeling during your performance last night that it was going to happen?”

Otabek stays relaxed, “No, I think I’ve only ever focused on my own performance rather than any potential outcome outside of it. Although I’m sure a lot of that comes from skating against Yuri Plisetsky and learning no one should assume anything.”

“Ah, speaking of which, Yuri, you’ve watched Otabek through the years. As a friend and competitor did you see a difference in his program last night from programs before?”

Yuri glances at him, “ _Uh_ \- I’m not sure if I noticed anything specific, but overall there was a- we use this word so often, but there was an energy there that really drove through his performance.” Yuri sees Otabek’s fingers twitch.

“Was it a bit of a shock to place second to him?”

Yuri forces his face to stay frozen, “It was and it wasn’t. It _has_ been awhile for me,” Yuri smiles, “But, I also know how much work has gone in over the years to confidently compete against Otabek. So- I think it was only inevitable there would come a time where he would surpass it.”

“How was it for you, Otabek? Yuri’s been your friend for so many years, winning gold after gold. Was the win last night something you felt you could _freely_ celebrate in front of him?” 

They share a light laugh.  
“Of course.” Otabek blinks over at Yuri and looks back at the interviewer, “I think Yuri is the type of person who would be more offended if I didn’t.”

...  


**=======**


	15. Part III: 3. Dancing at Night

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

...  


By the time Yuri finally gets back to the hotel it’s well into the night. Nearly past dinner, the sky clouded and black.  
Before heading to Otabek’s he stopped by his room to drop off a few things and take the usual day after phone call with his grandfather.  
Yuri stands in front of his window, looking out into the night sky. 

No one outwardly treated him like a disappointment today. Everything said to him was still overly complimentary. The crowds outside didn’t lessen in enthusiasm when they saw him. The only difference was how much more Otabek was brought up. And brought up as the one who succeeded him.  
_It’s..._  
Not terrible.  
A part of Yuri even likes it.  
Because all of Yuri likes Otabek. 

Since last night there are pieces of him that aren’t there anymore. He can’t find them. When he thinks of his sport and the way he’ll approach next season, his thoughts flatline to nothing.  
But even with so many parts inside of him missing _maybe_ -  
He feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out to read-

| What did your grandfather end up cooking for dinner last night?

No one has ever asked Yuri that. No one knows Yuri’s grandfather cooks a special meal for himself to eat while watching Yuri perform. Or that the majority of Yuri and his grandfather’s phone conversation after a competition is almost exclusively about it. Otabek must have remembered from years ago. 

> golubtsi  
> omw 

Even with so many parts missing inside him.  
Maybe there are new parts growing instead.

...  


...  


When Yuri opens the door, Otabek snaps his head up from reading something on his phone. He’s sitting on the couch. He looks fresh out of a shower, hair still wet, his clothes loose and comfortable.  
Otabek softens and reaches out for him. Yuri softens back, drops his bag to the floor, and tiredly makes his way over. Otabek stays sitting, wrapping his arms around his waist, head pressed into his abdomen just like last night. Yuri rakes his fingers in his hair, massaging at the nape of his neck.

“I rushed out cause I wanted to see you but-” Yuri pulls the wet ends of Otabek’s hair straight up between his fingers, surveying the length, “I really need to take a shower.”

Otabek presses a kiss into Yuri’s lower abdomen. “You can use mine.”

“Thanks. I was sorta hoping you hadn’t had one yet-“

Otabek looks up. “I’m happy to take another.” He plants a longer kiss into the same spot. Yuri closes his eyes from it. A stir comes from between his legs, picturing Otabek naked and wet. He’s pretty sure that was his coming of age moment actually. His horny teenage self would be so proud. The possibility of naked wet Otabek now just a few feet away. 

“Mm.” Yuri opens his eyes to him and smiles. “I used to jerk myself off thinking of you in the shower.”

Otabek laughs lightly and pinches his lower back. “I used to think about you-“ he sighs, and guides Yuri down to sit over him. Yuri smiles, straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. He sinks into the space between Otabek’s legs with an ever growing need to feel him. Otabek has one hand on Yuri’s waist and one cradling his head. “Everywhere.”

Yuri kisses him, slowly rolling his hips. He feels Otabek’s cock harden and it’s enough for his lower body to roll on its own. 

“Did you have a favorite?” Yuri murmurs, 

Otabek grins, “Mm.”

“I swear to god if you say on a motorcycle-“

Otabek laughs and shakes his head, “No. but... it’s close. Car.”

“A car? Sounds uncomfortable. We should do it.” Yuri nips into his chin. 

Otabek eyes cloud over. He grips into Yuri’s waist and flips him down on the couch. Yuri lets out a shocked gasp but relaxes as soon as his back hits the cushion, smiling up into the ceiling.  
“I need to shower.” Yuri reminds him. “And didn’t you say we were going slow-“

Otabek sits over his legs, fingertips trailing over Yuri’s hips. “Mm. We are.” His eyes are fucking dangerous, like Yuri’s about to be pushed out of a plane.  
Slowly he unbuttons two buttons at the bottom of Yuri’s shirt and pushes the fabric up. Yuri sits up on his forearms and spreads his legs wider. Otabek lowers down and starts kissing down his stomach. 

“ _Oh_ \- okay-“ Yuri falls back to couch and stares up at the ceiling, hand gripping his own hair. His spine curls when he feels Otabek‘s mouth arrive at the top of his pants right above the fly.  
Otabek’s breath burns fire into the skin below Yuri’s naval. His tongue twists and drifts across it, teasing until the muscles under him twitch and flex on their own.  
Yuri’s breath catches when he feels Otabek’s hand sliding up his crotch, settling itself over the button of his pants- Otabek starts fingering it, and all Yuri can do is tilt his head back, close his eyes and-

There’s a knock. 

“Oh fucking why though-!“ Yuri snaps. 

Otabek sits up, both of them staring at the door. 

Another knock. 

Yuri turns to him. “Were you expecting anyone?”

Otabek shakes his head. Begrudgingly he stands up. Listening closely, he cautiously walks towards the door.

“Otabek! It’s Leo!” A voice calls out. 

Otabek rolls his eyes and smacks a hand over his face.  
Well there goes both their hard ons.  
Yuri can’t help it. He grins. But like in that kind of manic oh-shit-what-are-we-gonna-do way.  
He could hide. He probably should. But. That feels too easy.

“Otabek I know you’re in there. Your friend tracker is on.”

Otabek tenses his mouth and balls his hands into fists. 

Yuri smiles so wide his face hurts. He catches Otabek’s eyes and mouths “ _Open it_.”  
Otabek looks at him like he’s insane and shakes his head.  
Yuri lowers his eyelids and repeats, “ _Open It_.”

“Otabek, come on!” Leo pleads. 

Yuri sits up straight and nods at the door “ _He‘s not gonna go_ ,” he mouths it with a shrug.

Otabek relents, internally bracing himself as he grips the door handle, pulling it open. 

“ _Ah_! Hey! Finally! Shit, I was afraid you might’ve already run off and gone all antisocial again tonight. Especially when you know we have to take you- _whoa_...” Leo freezes, mouth open, looking at the couch, “Hey Yuri!”

“Hello Leo.”

“Ah crap, did I interrupt something?”

Otabek looks blankly at a wall, his brain erroring out. Yuri, thankfully, thrives in chaos.  
“Mm. Not really. I just came by to congratulate and assure Otabek that we were still friends.”

Leo grins and gives an endearing look over to Otabek. “Aw. Man, Otabek. An in-person congratulatory meet from Yuri Plisetsky,” Leo’s cheeks unabashedly blush as he says it. “Sounds like you did something right.”

Otabek looks like he wants to stuff Leo into a very small very suffocating closet.  
It’s a real role reversal for the two of them. Usually it’s Yuri seething into the back of someone while Otabek provides bottomless patience. 

Yuri clears his throat and makes a move as if he’s going to stand up, “I can go if you two had something-“

Otabek glares. 

Leo shakes his head, “Hell no, Yuri! I actually came by to drag Otabek to Siren’s with us so we could celebrate him right. Never thought I’d see you, too. Obviously you’re welcome to join. It’d be awesome actually if you-“

“No.” Otabek is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral but really just looks like he has some uncomfortable personal business he’d rather not delve into. Like diarrhea. “I’m tired.”  
Definitely sounds like diarrhea. 

“Wow Otabek” Yuri looks at him, disappointed. “You just beat me and won gold at the Olympics. Of all nights this is the one you should be out celebrating.”

Leo is looking happily back and forth between them, mouth open. Like a very dumb dog.  
Otabek’s jaw is clenched so tight Yuri worries what whittled state his back teeth will be in by the end of this.  
As much as Yuri wants to continue where they’d left on the couch- _dear god, so so much_ \- the idea that Otabek would pass up a night with with everyone celebrating his win was—  
_Yeah_. Just not an option. 

Yuri brushes off Otabek’s clenched teeth and looks back over at Leo “You know, I’ve been such a loner when it comes to these things the past few years. I haven’t gone out celebrating with everyone in awhile. Leo-” Yuri flashes a smile, “I’ll go if he goes.”

Leo turns to Otabek, eyes wide and pleading. 

Otabek bites the inside of his lip staring tensely at Yuri. Yuri keeps his gaze relaxed, telling Otabek it’s alright.

Yuri waits.  
Leo waits.  
Otabek lets out a very long exhale through his nose, “Sure.”

“Oh! Hell! Yes! Yuri! You won’t regret this! We’ll keep it super low-key, promise. Everyone is gonna be so- like wow- so stoked. This is great! Uh, okay, meet us down in the lobby in...” Leo looks at his phone. “An hour yeah? Oh. Is the lobby okay, Yuri? I know there’s prob-“

“Lobby’s fine.” Yuri stands and stretches out his neck. Now he’ll definitely have to shower. 

Leo looks triumphant, like he just finished a marathon, “Awesome! Okay! Otabek-“ he mouths “ _thank you_.” And makes a prayer motion with his hands before letting himself out. 

The door clicks behind him. 

Otabek points to the door and looks at Yuri, “Why?”

Yuri throws his arms up. “He was about to cream himself he was so excited. Also, you did just win gold at the Olympics, Otabek. They want to celebrate with you. I’ve got enough guilt gnawing at my guts I don’t want more when I think about keeping you locked in a room on a night you’ve been asked out by all them-“ Otabek goes to say something but Yuri puts a hand up stopping him, “Besides, you know how sketch it would seem if we both said no after he walked in on me here.”

“ _Would it_?” 

“I mean... yeah okay I don’t know, maybe not for him. He doesn’t seem like the Sherlock type. But don’t tell me you can’t picture him blurting out cheerfully that he saw me here, right? And then someone else, taking that and... ruminating?”

“We’re friends. We’ve been friends since—“  
Yuri cocks his head.  
“Yeah, alright.” Otabek concedes. He looks up, defeated and exhausted. 

“Look. We’ll have one drink, be miserable, imagine each other naked and spend the rest of the time hiding our boners from everyone. It’s gonna be _fucking_ rad.” Yuri snaps his fingers on the ‘fucking’ part. 

“It’s good he’s retiring this year.” Otabek sounds like he’s been sucked through a black hole. 

“You don’t mean that. You’re copying me Otabek, find your own personality. Look, forget that googley eyed dork for a sec... I’ve got some really killer news, alright? I was going to wait until after we came but you look like you might kill one of your closest friends and maybe strangle me the next time we’re doing it, and we’re just not there yet so...“ Yuri bites his lip, excitedly, “It looks like there’s a block of time starting in April. That- I don’t have anything. Well. Nothing that I’d have to leave the city for. If- if you wanted to visit...”

Otabek snaps his head over, eyes searching. 

“Obviously, it depends on your schedule but there’s like two or more weeks they think they can-”

Otabek’s eyebrows raise. “Really?” 

“Mm.”

“You won’t have to travel?” Otabek asks it with such sincerity Yuri’s heart swells.

Yuri shakes his head. 

Otabek walks over and wraps him in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. “Potya?”

Yuri hugs him back tight, “Yes.”

“Baba Yaga?”

“Yes.”

Otabek pulls off his shoulder to kiss him. “Good.”

“Do you forgive me for saying yes to Leo?”

“No.”

Yuri smiles. “Mm. Will you still want to fuck me later?“

Otabek holds back something. He nods, “Yes.”

Yuri leans in, closing his eyes and murmurs against his mouth, “You’ll make me come?”

Otabek angles his head to the side, breath deepening, “Yes.”

“You’ll fuck me until I come?” Yuri grips into his hips and rolls into him. 

“Yes.” Otabek’s hand slides to his hip and grips with a threat. “ _Yuri_ -“

“Mm.” Yuri kisses his nose. “Good. I need to go to my room to get ready cause I didn’t bring shit with me except clothes to wear when we aren’t fuck- _hey_ -“ Yuri catches Otabek’s face and nudges into his nose. Yuri kisses him, fingers tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. “I’m obsessed with you.” 

Otabek looks at him, eyes saying they’re still comprehending Yuri actually saying it. 

It’s sweet. He’s so fucking sweet. “I am. Now lets go to this shit club and get you some free drinks.”

...  


...  


“Have you been to this place before?” Yuri is surveying his closet and open suitcase. 

Otabek nods tiredly, “Mm. It’s all lights and beat drops.”

Yuri taps under his chin, considering his options. He’s standing in his underwear, hair damp, the scent of his soap still fresh on his skin. “Is it... exclusive or is it sticky?”

Otabek frowns, “Sticky pretending to be exclusive.”

“Perfect.”  
Yuri pulls on his damaged black denim with the worn out knees. He throws on an extra deep white v neck shirt made of fabric so light it hangs off his torso like a Greek marble statue. If he sweats enough he knows the shirt will stick and almost always at some point one of his nipples will peak out from the stretched neck.  
He imagines Otabek seeing it.  
Next, he picks out a basic black suit jacket. Nothing particularly special just an extra one he’d brought in case he didn’t feel like wearing the other black one with the dark velvet floral pattern. That one deserved more than a quick night at a sticky club.  
He pulls on a pair of all black converse, tightens the laces, and walks back to the bathroom. 

Adhering to his civic duty he does a light spritz of the cologne he reps. Then finishes everything off by pulling his damp hair back into a half bun. Once he’s smoothed the edges enough and loosened it in the back he turns around and walks over. 

“Alright. Let’s get this fucking over with.”

Otabek rises. He’d been watching Yuri closely, enjoying the process.  
Yuri still feels Otabek’s eyes burning into him.  
“Do I look pretty, Otabek?” Yuri asks it looking down, grabbing his room key and wallet, stuffing them in his pockets and adjusting his sleeves. 

Otabek smiles. “The prettiest, Yuri.”

Yuri pauses, taking him in. “Mm. You look fucking hot.”  
Like Yuri, Otabek went with fairly uninspired upgraded every day choices. But it wouldn’t take a sharp eye to notice that most dark gray t-shirts don’t look so god damn expensive like the one Otabek is wearing and it’s difficult to to decipher if it’s actually the t-shirt that looks so expensive or Otabek making it look that way. Otabek and his body have a supernatural way of making every clothing piece look tailored for him. Over it he’s wearing a sharp black bomber, the half collar angled perfectly under the shadow of his jaw. 

Without breaking eye contact, Yuri slides a hand under his shirt and teases one of his nipples, tweaking and tugging it till it gets hard between his fingers. 

Otabek grins with a warning. “We’re never going to leave if you keep doing that Yuri.” 

Yuri sighs. Pulling his hand out and turning towards the door. Otabek catches him and halfway spins him into a searing kiss, hand grasping his waist under his jacket. They moan at the same, pent up and turned on.  
Their tongues clash, trying to dominate the other.  
Otabek’s fingers grip into his middle and Yuri feels a twitch at his groin, steadily reaching the point where continuing would mean never stepping foot out the door. He pulls off.  
Yuri balls his hand into a fist and pushes it on Otabek’s shoulder in shared frustration.  
They stare darkly at each other. Silently promising to end the night much later, when they’re spent and naked and sweating into the bedsheets. Or the floor. Or the wall. Who cares. Just sweating. 

Otabek reaches out, tucking a wisp of hair behind Yuri’s ear, admiring him freely for the last time before they face what’s outside.  
Yuri looks at him and nods, “You first.”

...  


...  


“Leo did you call Sirens to let them know?” Phichit asks, currently being squeezed between Otabek and Yuri in the back of the cab. 

Leo nods, looking at his phone, texting a few of the other skaters with an updated ETA.

Yuri gave a heads up to his publicist that he’d be out tonight. That there might be photos but he didn’t plan anything flashy. Wasn’t planning on going hard. She offered to call the club herself for special accommodations but Yuri declined. It wasn’t that kind of night for him. And in front of the others it would have been tacky, like something JJ would do.

“They said we’re welcome to use the back entrance if we want-“ Leo cranks his head back to look at the three of them.

“I’m sure the front will be fine,” Yuri assures him, staring out the window, looking down each of the backstreets they drive by. It would have been better on Otabek’s bike. But— _yeah_. Funny how much more suspicious everything seems when they are actually fucking each other behind closed doors. Yuri wonders if they’d be so careful if they were still just friends.  
He sees Otabek’s profile in the reflection of the window and inwardly sighs. 

Leo’s eyes go wide on his phone, “JJ says he called in and got us a table in the VIP section.”  
A vein in Yuri’s neck pulses. Of course he did. As if they wouldn’t get one the minute Yuri walked in. 

“ _Hm_. JJ is there?” Otabek asks it, suddenly all perked up, obviously trying very hard not to glance at Yuri. 

“Yeah! He says he ‘ _wants tonight to be a new night and that he_ ’” Leo is reading verbatim the self-help novel JJ is texting him, “he ‘ _can’t wait to start his new chapter. The best chapter yet._ ’ Alright! He sounds like he’s doing okay!” Leo looks back at them.

Otabek’s face stays blank, Yuri imagines JJ’s body falling from the sky onto the car window, and Phichit beams.  
When they drive up there’s a small crowd. Not bad. Just enough to be a minor inconvenience. Mostly photographers.  
_Fucking JJ_.

Leo tenses. “Shit. I’m sorry, Yuri. I swear I didn’t—“

Yuri puts a hand up “It happens. Looks like JJ may have slipped a name or two.” 

Otabek slams the door first and rounds the back of the car. Bodies start hustling and motioning over to him, shouting out his name. Otabek stays calm, respectfully acknowledging them but staying on course.  
Yuri twists his neck before he opens his side, beating Otabek to it, and steps out. Making room for Phichit to exit behind him.  
Cameras click wildly. His name on their tongues, asking for his gaze, questions being thrown at him in at least 5 different languages. He ignores them but gives a polite tip of his head.  
He follows half a step behind Otabek and Leo towards the front entrance. Head down. Phichit behind him.  
That back entrance Leo offered will have to become a back exit later.

...  


...  


Across the VIP space, Yuri spots JJ clapping Otabek on the shoulder and handing him a shot, yelling something in his ear. Otabek gives a warm laugh in response. Yuri imagines blood pouring from the ceiling and falling into JJ’s stupid fucking mouth, gagging him.

Yuri has been to enough clubs to know exactly what to do in any given scenario. How to stand. How to look out at the sweating bodies looking like a god surveying the land. How to tilt his head to the person next to him and feign interest in whatever they’re saying in his ear. How quickly to drink whatever it is he’s holding. How to lift the corner of his lips, do it flirtatiously, do it graciously, do it playfully.

But he’s never been to a club while the person he loves madly is merely feet away and they aren’t even allowed to acknowledge it.  
Puts a new spin on things.  
He fucking hates it.  
It’s fucking stupid. 

“Yuri!” Phichit smiles and moves over to him, never seemingly bothered by Yuri’s cold reputation, “I feel so much more popular that you’re here! I’ve never had pap shots taken of me!”

Yuri smiles, feeling his hackles smooth down, “It’s a plague, Phichit, I’m sorry you had to experience it.”

Phichit shakes his head, “Nah. Once is fine, I’ll live. I don’t know how you deal with that all the time though-“

“I don’t normally. Really only ever happens at big events or if someone tips them off-“ his eyes dart over at JJ, who is currently jumping off a table so someone can take a photo of him mid air. 

Phichit grins when he follows Yuri’s eyes, “I see. _Oh whoa_ -” Phichit shifts, looking closer, “I didn’t notice in the car but, that’s a nice jacket Otabek is wearing.”

Yuri brings his drink to his lips, not saying a word.

“Really sharp,” Phichit continues, entirely oblivious, “Otabek has always been unfairly cool, hasn’t he?”

Yuri doesn’t move his drink from his mouth. Just keeps it there. “I suppose so.”

“I wonder if he ever had an awkward stage...” Phichit contemplates it out loud. 

Yuri cocks his head and tries to see it, “He must have.” It starts coming to him, Yuri paints it over the cool strong handsome exterior in front of him, “Can’t you picture it? Otabek with braces? Maybe a bad polo? Too much hair gel?”

Phichit laughs, “Oh no, Yuri! I can see it-” They laugh together “but Yuri, you’ve always been like that too though. Cool, I mean. We must all seem so lame compared to the two of you! Whenever Yuuri and I talk we always laugh at ourselves when we compare our day to day to yours-”

Yuri takes the drink away from his mouth and shakes his head, “You’ve never been lame Phichit. I was the one with a leopard print phase remember?”

Picchat scoffs, “No way. You pulled it off!”

Otabek catches them and holds his drink up as a silent cheers. They motion it back. Otabek looks over his shoulder and escapes from JJ’s line of sight, striding over to them.

Yuri feels that skip in his heart.  
“Otabek. You didn’t want to jump off the table like JJ?” Yuri says it as disinterestedly as possible. 

“No, I already had a whole jumping off the table photo series earlier today.”

“Mm. So you get first place and suddenly you want all this attention.”

Phichit’s eyes go wide.  
Otabek and Yuri stare at each other, Yuri’s eyes taunting knowing how difficult it must be for him to not zero in on his mouth. 

Leo appears out of nowhere with a drink tray, “Hey winners! Drink this!” He hands them each a shot. “And then! We’re going out there- No! Otabek! Don’t even think about hiding at the bar! We’re going out there and we’re gonna dance! Otabek! Please, it’s my last year and you won! You won! I need this! You do too! Hey, consider this, maybe the person you’re gonna end up falling in love with is already out there, waiting for you-“

Yuri nearly chokes. 

Otabek looks like he’s dying very rapidly from the inside out.

“No seriously, the love of your life Otabek. You don’t have to be so sad anymore-“

 _Haaaa_. With a fast grin Yuri cockily throws the shot glass back. His own drink following.  
Otabek swallows his down like it’s poison.  
The two others follow their lead. 

“Yes!” Leo tugs at Otabek’s arm, “Alright- Come on! Anyone is welcome to join!” He yells it over his shoulder. 

Phichit laughs and cheers after them, “Go, Otabek!”

Yuri squints after them, “Otabek can’t dance, can he?” 

Phichit grins and shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

“You’ve seen him try?”

Phichit sighs sadly, “Otabek might be cool but-“ he shakes his head like he’s remembering something tragic, “it’s not good, Yuri.”

Yuri takes everything back. Coming here was the greatest decision he has ever made.  
“I see. _I_ -“ Yuri nods over to them, “This is very important- for me.”

Phichit gives him a salute.  
And with that Yuri follows, keeping himself a couple feet behind Leo and Otabek both of them unaware. 

Even when the two of them reach the dance floor Otabek is still being visibly dragged, only relenting once there are bodies on all sides, the two of them slowly making their way to the front. Yuri shakes out two ice cubes from his drink, sliding them into his mouth, crunching down as they melt in his throat, his eyes watching, fixed. He discards his cup and makes his way in after them. 

Faces start to follow on him. Not everyone. But he feels the familiar sense of strangers recognizing him and reacting. Mouths gaping and quickly trying to pretend it’s nothing, eyeballs remaining glued. At least it makes the sea of bodies part easier than it would for others.  
The reaction intensifies when eyes look further down and spot Otabek, the pieces come together for them. A couple congratulatory compliments are shouted out. Yuri notices the outline of an excited stranger starting to reach out but as if on cue-

“ **Everyone!** ” JJ is at the front of the bar, standing on more furniture, a chair this time. His hands are up asking for the club’s attention. Yuri scowls but takes advantage of the distraction and makes his way closer to Otabek and Leo. 

Idiots play stupidly into JJ’s theatrics, cheering for him, and shouting his catchphrase.  
JJ beams back, “Yes! The competitors from this years’ Winter Olympics men’s figure skating competition are here with you tonight! We want to drink! We want to dance! And we want to have the best night of our lives! Can we all agree to that?”

Everyone cheers. Yuri hates each and every single one of them.

“But I’m gonna ask one itty bitty teensy favor, alright? Can I do that?”  
More supportive cheering.  
“We’re here to dance and and we’re here to celebrate! Will you let us do that? That means no photos, no interviews, we just wanna dance and drink with all of you! Is that good?! Do we like that?!”  
The crowd erupts.  
“ALRIGHT! YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO! NEXT ROUND ON ME!”  
The beat drops with the bass turned all the way up, the floor explodes with a wave of sweating bodies.  
JJ jumps down and disappears into the adoring crowd.

Well, he was good for something finally.

Yuri turns back and sees Leo desperately trying to get Otabek to move his shoulders to the beat. 

“How were you a DJ and you can’t dance, Otabek?!” Leo is yelling at him. 

“Because all I did was this-“ Otabek nods his head to the beat, his stare intense. Yuri laughs.  
_So fucking cute._  
They both look up and see him. 

“Yuri!” Leo looks excited and relieved, “Help us!”

Yuri sighs and yells back, “I can’t Leo. He’s made of actual cement. Maybe we could just twirl him?”

Otabek’s eyes are drinking him in, Yuri can feel his pulse shaking the ground all the way from where he’s standing.

“Leo,” Yuri lets a sly smile play on his lips, “Maybe he’ll loosen up if he sees how easy it is.” Yuri tugs at Leo’s collar and Leo forgets about Otabek entirely, turning to Yuri, mouth slightly open, watching in shock as Yuri Plisetsky pulls him in to dance. Instinctively Leo starts to move with him, the garbage fucking music blasting through their eardrums.

They’re not pressed close or anything. Nothing overtly sexual.  
But it’s dancing.  
And it’s a club.  
And the lights are low.  
And not a single person isn’t sweating.  
And Yuri is very good at moving his body.  
And Leo isn’t Otabek when it comes to matching his own to a beat.

It’s just Otabek left. Standing stiff and alone. Surrounded by twisting forms. Staring darkly at Yuri and Leo dancing as naturally as they do to the shitty music blaring from all sides.

Yuri glances at him. Daring him.  
Otabek’s leg twitches.

Leo suddenly snaps his head up like he just got woken up from a spell, “Holy _ah_ \- Otabek- sorry, here, come on dude. It’s _Yuri_!” Leo reaches for him, bringing him in.

Otabek brushes against Yuri’s side and freezes.

“It’s _me_.” Yuri coos like it’s no big deal.

Otabek turns more to face him, like his body is in physical pain but he knows he has to try.  
Yuri puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to bring himself any closer. “Sway, Otabek. Just sway with me.”  
Yuri feels like a coach, but he’s also making a promise with his eyes that he’s going to get Otabek through this. As painlessly as possible. He just needs to try.  
Otabek sighs and awkwardly sways with him.  
Yuri makes a pleased smile, and makes a mistake by looking down.  
_Oh wow_  
Otabek _really_ cannot dance  
“Oh my god.” Yuri whispers. 

“Otabek! Yes!” Leo claps and punches him in the shoulder. “Looking good!”

Otabek looks like death.

“SHOTS!” JJ rolls up and hands them out, “1-2-3, JJ STYLE!” 

Yuri mumbles expletives and knocks it back. Thankfully, JJ disappears as quickly as he disrupts. Like the world’s most useless Batman.

The floor is getting predictably more crowded. There’s less space around them. Even Leo’s been pulled in by someone close.  
Otabek and Yuri look at each other, refusing to make eye contact with any of the starving eyes around them, silently asking one another if it’s safe.

Yuri gives a slight nod and leans in slightly, shouting into his ear, “We don’t really have a choice.”

“None.” Otabek agrees, a flush in his cheeks.

They’re pressed closer than they’d like to be in a public setting but they’ve agreed to having no alternative. Yuri tries to keep his body looking tense, he doesn’t want to look too comfortable. Otabek hasn’t not been tense since Leo mentioned dancing but Yuri can feel him melting more and more now.  
Yuri wants to warn him but can’t find the will to.  
He can feel Otabek’s breath against his face.  
His lips are dangerously close.  
Otabek is better at this kind of dancing. The close kind. Or he’s gotten drunk enough on something that he’s letting himself be good at it.  
His hips are actually moving. His spine twists with the beat bringing heat to his torso that Yuri finds pain from not being able to run his hands over. He wishes they weren’t wearing jackets. He thinks about Otabek’s upper half naked. The way it flexes. 

Otabek peers at him below his brows, asking for permission.  
Yuri sees Otabek’s hands hovering slightly above his forearms, holding themselves back. 

“Yes.” Yuri breathes out, their faces close.  
Otabek slides his hands inside Yuri’s jacket and holds him at his waist.  
They both exhale. 

Yuri decides to push them both to the brink so he lets his body move more, eyes fixed on Otabek’s face, wanting to see him feel it.  
He does.  
Otabek makes strangled sound, a secret only Yuri can hear.  
Otabek’s thumb starts caressing against Yuri’s side, hidden by the cover of his jacket. Yuri feels an ache drop lower and lower until it hits between his legs.

“We need to stop.”

Otabek nods but doesn’t stop.

“It’s getting less and less subtle.” Yuri continues. 

Otabek nods but still doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing lower.

“God I want you in me so fucking badly.”

Otabek’s chest shakes when he hears it.

“We should go.”

Otabek nods, stopping. He steps back and quickly maneuvers through the crowd, Yuri close behind. 

“Otabek!” He nearly crashes into Leo and Phichit, drinks in hand, making their back over to them. “We got you this!” Leo smiles as Phichit holds out a fresh one. 

They haven’t spotted Yuri yet, more and more people start layering between them.  
Yuri tenses his mouth.  
Maybe he should just go.  
They should leave separately anyway. 

He hears the muffled sound of Otabek thanking them, forehead tense, turning his head all around, looking for Yuri.  
_God_.  
He’s so fucking cute.  
So fucking cute when he’s looking around all anxious like that. Like he’s just gotten lost in a supermarket.  
Yuri reminds himself how he also recently promised he wouldn’t just disappear ever again. Even for something like this.  
Not to Otabek.  
Especially when he’s so fucking cute. 

Sighing, Yuri squeezes between bodies, stepping into their huddle, the previous lustful ache below his abdomen gone. 

“Hey-“ Yuri says casually, running a hand through his hair and nodding at Otabek’s drink in his hand. “Nice.”  
Otabek looks like he wants to throw it back over his head. 

“We were just saying how awesome it is that you’re here, Yuri!” Phichit’s cheeks turn pinker as he says it. 

“Oh yeah! And Phichit wanted to know-“ Phichit snaps up at Leo, face falling completely, glaring daggers into Leo’s eyes but Leo is too buzzed and too blissed out to care, “and Phichit was wondering what it was like to sit next to—“  
Phichit slaps his hand over Leo’s mouth, eyes wide and dying.  
“At the-“ Leo keeps laughing, words escaping “Milan Fashion-“ Phichit pulls him down and turns him around and away, whispering violent threats into his ear.

Yuri gives an easy smile after them and gazes over at Otabek, “If they come back around you can tell them ____ was wholly bland and reeked of cigarettes, I’m assuming that’s who he’s wondering about. I personally never would due to the smell and dullness but if Phichit is still interested, I do have his number. He’s better off without it, though.”

“I’m sorry.” Otabek blinks dishearteningly after them. 

Yuri shrugs, “Mm. But I do think I’m gonna go.”

Otabek snaps his head. “No.”

Yuri looks around making sure no one can hear or is looking to pay attention.  
“It’s fine. It’s better if I do. That way we leave separately.” 

“Yuri-“

“I’m sorry I got us stuck here in the first place-“

“ **Yuuuuuri Plisetsky!** ” A voice comes up from behind them. Yuri’s eyes go wide and violently he starts shaking his head to Otabek whose eyebrows have shot straight the fuck up.

 _Fucking seriously_ -  
He already doled out a shot why does he have to-

“The! Yuri! Plis! Et! Sky!” 

Yuri growls and slowly turns around to JJ. JJ’s face blinding Yuri’s with enthusiasm. Yuri gives a curt smile. “JJ.”

“I’m so proud of you Yuri. I’m _so_ proud to see you here tonight-“ without asking, JJ takes Yuri’s hand in his. Yuri wishes he could summon his own vomit and shoot it out of his mouth. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to connect like this. I wanted to let you know Yuri that... I understand. I understand what you must be going through right now-“

Otabek has relocated, placing himself a couple feet away, this time behind JJ’s shoulder, all so he can watch Yuri’s face while innocently nursing his drink. 

“I too was once on top of the world and then-“

“I’ve beaten you for the past 4 years.” Yuri interjects, bored and unamused. 

“It was a struggle, I know, for both of us. We brought the best out of each other-“

“No we haven’t. I’ve outranked you by an average of-“

“And with all our brand successes it only makes sense that the media would pit us against each other-“

“No one has ever pit us against each other. You literary did a cooking segment on a late night talk show while I was signing a 3 year multi million dollar deal with Adidas-“

“Yuri. Take it from me, don’t let Otabek’s win keep you from taking back that number one spot-“

Yuri thinks punching him in the throat would feel sexually gratifying. JJ squeezes Yuri’s shoulders, smiling freely into Yuri’s glare. 

“I have to shit.” Yuri says it hoping it’ll cause JJ to cartwheel far far away. 

Instead, JJ just nods understandingly, “That’s good, Yuri. That’s good to keep an active metabolism like that. It’s so important with what we do. You got a favorite smoothie? We gotta swap- _oh_ hey!“ JJ stops, eyes wide like a sudden thought just occurred to him. He leans back in, trying to act weirdly casual “I wanted to ask, is it true you dated ____? Because I’m not even that into to guys but he’s-“

Otabek full on chokes on his drink.  
It keeps Yuri from poking a finger into JJ’s eye socket. “You good Otabek?” Yuri shouts over to him. 

JJ turns around surprised, “There he is! Gold winner himself! Lets get you a shot!-“

“No!” Otabek puts a hand up. “Thank you but I’ve had too many already. Please. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

JJ grins, completely unbothered, and throws an arm around Otabek’s shoulder, “Alright alright- Hey! Did you know Yuri was here?”

Otabek and Yuri stare at each other.  
“Yes.” Otabek eyes dart to Yuri’s mouth.  
Yuri smirks. 

“I was just asking Yuri if it was true whether he dated ____-“

“JJ,” Otabek closes his eyes, cringing, “That’s so inappropriate-”

“Totally totally! I just know how much the media likes to exaggerate and you gotta admit he’s kinda ho-“

Otabek fully turns on him “JJ stop-“

Yuri grabs Otabek’s half empty drink from his hand and knocks the whole thing back. Both of them look on, stunned.  
Yuri wipes his mouth, and gives a loose grin, “Thanks for that. That tasted horrible. It’s late, I’m gonna get back to the hotel and google myself till I fall asleep. Nice chat, JJ. Otabek,” he sighs, “Congrats on the win- both of you, adieu.” 

Yuri turns, rolling his eyes, not looking back, tipping one last ice cube into his mouth and tossing the plastic cup into a nearby basket. 

He darts through the crowd, head down, spotting a steel door in the back that he takes a wild guess as the one Leo referred to earlier, he takes a chance, pushing through, the door swinging shut behind him and the pulsing bass going from a pounding headache to a muffled vibration. 

_Ugh. Finally._  
It’s nearly pitch black save for the exit sign on the other end and barely on lightbulb swinging from the ceiling. 

Yuri sighs and slows his pace now that he’s successfully escaped and on his way out. Otabek was right, this place is sticky. He feels his phone in his pocket and wonders whether to call a car service or-  
he stops when he hears the sound of the door opening behind him.

 _Shit_.  
He turns his head around.  
Yuri squints but when he recognizes the gait he instantly relaxes and returns back to walking casually towards the exit. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, Ota-“

Otabek grabs his arm and spins him, pushing him against the wall and searing his lips with a violent hot need.  
“Hey-“ Yuri murmurs, wrapping his arms around him, grinding back into him. Their tongues clashing.  
Otabek grips possessively into his sides, keeping him in place, frustration boiling from having to hold back all night.  
Yuri empathizes, sliding his fingers into the back of Otabek’s pants, pressing into the curve of his ass, sighing when Otabek rolls into him, aching painfully for the feeling of Otabek’s ass pumping into him. 

Yuri grins, pulling back and sinking his teeth into Otabek’s bottom lip and sucks.Otabek makes a low growl, rolling into him so their dicks push against the seams of their pants. Throbbing. They could fuck right here so easily. 

Yuri lets go of Otabek’s lip and Otabek seizes the temporary freedom by burying his face into Yuri’s neck, licking long wet stripes up to his jaw. His fingers claw at the neck of Yuri’s shirt selfishly needing more skin for his tongue to water.  
“ _Mmm_ -“ Yuri tilts back, losing himself and clenching from the heavy throbs pulsating through his body. It’s just going to get worse. Otabek’s mouth and tongue are drenching the skin of his neck, his collarbone, his chest, fumes sparking from his hunger.  
“Otabek-“  
Otabek groans deep, his lips closing and opening over the skin next to Yuri’s nipple, his tongue rolling closer and closer-  
Yuri chokes back a moan when Otabek starts to suck.  
They’re so fucking lucky this hallway is deserted. They’ll be luckier if there ends up being no security cameras.  
Yuri could easily fuck him here.  
Yuri hitches.  
_No_. Not here.  
It’ll be better at the hotel room where Otabek can fuck him into the wall without having to worry about someone bursting in.  
Unhooking his leg Yuri rakes his nails through Otabek’s hair, Otabek still latched and swirling his tongue around his nipple, “Otabek- _we_ \- fuck that feels good -we have to go- I need you-“

Otabek rises, holding Yuri’s waist close so he arches off of the wall. 

He looks gorgeous in the low light. All shadows and darkness and smooth skin. The sweat above his brow and the intimate parts of him soaking into his shirt.  
Yuri kisses his top lip, running his fingers through his hair.  
“Come on. Lets go. I don’t care if they notice we’re both gone-“

Otabek steadies himself, looking around them, like he just woke up from something. He nods, taking Yuri’s hand and leads them down the hallway. 

Yuri speeds up to wrap an arm across his chest from behind, then smothers his neck and ear with his mouth, grinning, making it difficult for them to walk without tripping over each other.  
Otabek grins back and turns his head to pull him into another kiss. Their feet clumsily walking closer and closer to the door as their arms and legs refuse to untangle. 

They pause when they reach it and Otabek gives one last look before pushing the door open. Yuri mournfully unwraps himself.

The cold air hits them bitterly.  
“Wait while I get a cab?”

Yuri smiles, nodding, leaning against the door frame and watching Otabek causally walk to the street corner, head bowed, hands in his pockets, braving the bitter cold air as he signals for a car.  
They’re saved almost immediately, and Otabek checks around before motioning for Yuri to follow. Yuri crosses, his arms across chest, Otabek opens the door for him to dive in and closes it after himself, he tells the driver their hotel and then finally, leans back to slump against the seat. Entirely out of breath. 

They look at each other and laugh. 

Yuri turns his body all the way to face him. He smiles, whispering low, “I’m sorry I made us go to that.”

Otabek shakes his head and whispers back, “They were terrible. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that-“ He reaches out to push Yuri’s hair back behind his ear. Yuri darts his eyes at the driver who truly could not seem to give less of a shit.  
The best kind of driver. Yuri will be sure to tip him exorbitantly. 

“I’ve had worse.” Yuri shrugs, “Much worse. Usually it is worse. You’ll see.”

Otabek frowns.  
“I worry sometimes,” Otabek drifts away slightly, his finger tracing the skin of Yuri’s knee exposed from the hole there, “the way people look at you-“

“Oh, like I’m meat?” Yuri smirks. 

“Mm.” Otabek looks on sadly. “ _I_ \- I’ve always worried I do the same-“

Yuri shakes his head, “No. It’s different. I can see it. You don’t look at me like you just want to fuck me or put me in a display case, _you_ -“ Yuri pauses, his finger reaching to Otabek’s chin, “for some weirdass reason you want all the other parts too.”

Otabek smiles and brings Yuri’s hand down to his lap, clutching it between both palms and looking contently out the window. 

Yuri admires him, “Otabek.”

“Mm?”

“You can’t dance.”

Otabek sighs and leans his head back. “I know.”

Yuri starts laughing, “You- you looked like a lego.”

Otabek closes his eyes. “I know.”

“You looked like someone drew an angry face on a brick and left it on the dance floor.”

Otabek stares into the car ceiling, “I know.”

Yuri grins, curling his legs under him. He bites behind his lip, “You’re so fucking cute, Otabek.”

Otabek turns to him.

Yuri nods, “Mm. You are. _So fucking cute_.”

...  


**=======**


	16. Part III: 4. Burning at Night

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway**

...  


The elevator doors open and Otabek exits first. Yuri, bites behind his lip to keep from grinning and pushes off after him. They look at each other, not touching, walking forward with purpose and sightless direction.  
Yuri never thought looking at someone’s face could be a form of foreplay. But the way their eyes are meeting right now- Yuri feels it. He feels it in his mouth and his chest and the muscles under his skin. The way Otabek looks at him... that shifting behind his eyes that he cycles through.  
By now, Yuri’s beginning to catch on to it- 

Most often Otabek looks at Yuri like he needs something to prove to himself that it’s all real- so he’ll kiss Yuri, or touch him. There’s a sweet desperation in it. It’s when his eyes travel over Yuri’s face the most.  
Sometimes Otabek looks at Yuri like he wants to hold him. Like he needs to envelope Yuri completely. His eyes will go between a flash of pain then blink to urgent determination. 

But then other times Otabek looks at Yuri like...  
Yuri can’t quite explain it, but- There’s power in it. A darkness. Lights dim and a low thunder rumbles under their feet. It’s beautiful. Yuri thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. _It’s_ — not sweet. It’s honest and raw. It has teeth and a purpose. It was one of the reasons Yuri always felt drawn to him— that threat of something. But up til now, it was always shown to be an unintentional trait. Otabek had only ever demonstrated himself to be kind, patient, and gentle- that black flame behind his lashes and under the shadow of his brow... all it did was provide balance, nothing else. And that was fine. Yuri fell in love him anyway. But a part of Yuri always hung on to his theory that it really did exist. That the threat of darkness Otabek had wasn’t just a superficial coincidence but instead a conscious living breathing thing. And now that he knows he’s been right all along-  
_It’s fucking addictive_. To see something that beautiful.  
It’s why that space under Yuri’s naval is tingling the way it is.  
Yuri sees it in Otabek now. It flickers for a half second then goes back to sweet disbelief.

On entering Otabek’s room, Yuri lingers by the door, turning around to face him as they take off their shoes. Only the city outside illuminates them. It’s enough though. Yuri still sees all of him. Otabek’s smooth skin, the shadows of his face, and the outline of his mouth are as clear to him as they would be in any breed of light.  
They haven’t said anything. 

Otabek takes one step forward. Yuri doesn’t move, something tells him not to. They aren’t touching, but Yuri can feel Otabek’s warmth filling the air and the inches of space between them.  
Otabek bends his head down, the side of his face barely brushing against Yuri’s cheek as he starts to peel Yuri’s jacket off. Yuri parts his lips and wonders if he should do the same to Otabek’s, but before he can Otabek walks away from him and to the closet a few feet away, Yuri’s jacket in his arms. He takes his time, pulling out a hanger and positioning it perfectly before settling it inside along with his own.  
Yuri watches over his shoulder, not saying a word. There’s a clear intent with all of Otabek’s movements. Like he’s mapped this night out for who knows how long.  
Crossing over to to the living area, Otabek bends down to the end table next to the couch, clicking the lamp on to the lowest setting, a subtle gold now highlighting over the room. Then, casually putting his hands into his pockets Otabek takes a couple more steps, and stops in front of the armchair-  
He turns, eyes on Yuri.  
Waiting. 

_Oh_

Yuri closes his lips and swallows.  
The smallest tug occurs at the corner of Otabek’s mouth.  
_Oh god_  
Yuri goes to him. Tongue watering. Fingers aching to touch him and that space below his naval churning. Still though, he waits. _All of this_... it’s new. Very new.  
Otabek comes closer and pulls up Yuri’s shirt, wordlessly directing him to take it off.  
He does.  
When Yuri looks down, dropping it to the floor while running a hand through his hair, Otabek reaches out and cups Yuri’s cheek. Quickly Yuri responds by bringing his head up and grabbing at his wrist, eyes open and clear. Eager and ready. Otabek kisses him. It tastes like watered down honey with a hint of need. 

“Sit.”  
It’s the first word that’s been spoken since they got back to the hotel. And Otabek says it with that look in his eyes. The one that threatens to sink them into the floor, deeper into the ground, burying them both in his own selfish desires.  
It really is the most beautiful fucking thing.

Yuri smirks and sits in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.  
He slides his hands down the armrests before sinking deeper and propping an elbow up to rest his head on his fist. Like some shirtless, horny, spoiled king. Otabek matches his smirk, bending down to kiss him again but when Yuri opens his mouth wanting more Otabek pulls away, giving him a look to remind Yuri he’s not the one leading this.

Towering over him Otabek takes off his shirt, throwing it to the couch.  
Yuri’s cock twitches. Squatting down in front of Yuri’s crossed legs, Otabek silently tells Yuri what to do next-  
Leisurely, Yuri uncrosses his right leg and spreads both, head still leaning into his fist with a locked gaze. 

Otabek’s hands run down Yuri’s thighs, over his pants as he positions himself.  
_Oh my god_  
Pulling himself in more by grasping Yuri’s hips, Otabek tilts his head and kisses the outline of Yuri’s hard cock.  
_Oh my god_  
Yuri watches with pained eyes, the fist he’s leaning his head against now covering his mouth. As he tenderly kisses the head, Otabek snaps his eyes up to Yuri and Yuri loses all vocal restraint, releasing a sad helpless whimper. Encouraged, Otabek lifts his face and unbuttons Yuri’s pants and Yuri pushes himself up slightly so he can pull them off fully. 

He kisses Yuri’s bare thighs. Long lingering kisses that start from Yuri’s knee to the space between his legs. Then moving to the other. Yuri keeps trying to spread them more but can’t. He just wants more.  
Having Otabek here, his bare chest, his back, kneeling between his legs with his fucking face- _it’s_... things this good don’t actually exist, _it’s not_ \- Otabek’s mouth starts pressing against his cock again, through his underwear and Yuri has to bite into his own lips to keep from whining any louder than he already has. It feels- _Fuck_  
With parted lips Otabek’s tongue starts licking into the fabric. Soaking though and wetting Yuri’s cock. He licks up the shaft and back down, closing in on the head, covering it with the warm haven inside his mouth. Otabek pulls back, his fingers dipped into Yuri’s underwear and tugs. Yuri swallows and helps him take them them off. His dick comes out free and stiff, desperate for Otabek’s attention.  
Otabek looks at it with half lidded eyes, adoringly. Apparently you can do that. Yuri only thought it was possible for himself when he looked at Otabek’s dick but Otabek does it to his too. He looks at it like he wants to write it a fucking sonnet. Like Yuri’s hard engorged desperate to be touched cock is a perfectly picked flower that Otabek just received from the person he loves.  
Otabek braces it against one hand and tilts his head as he moves in-

“Otabek-“

He stops, face turning up to Yuri.

Neither Yuri’s brain or mouth are working but he thinks it’s important that he says this, “I can- I can come more- not that you have to- just uh- I can come more than once so- _don’t_... you don’t have to stop- _if_ \- if you don’t want to.”

 _Oh god_  
The darkness seeps in like a storm in Otabek’s eyes causing his mouth to transform into a sinful smile. “Mm. You _really_ should not have told me that, Yuri.” And with the last word leaving him he dips in and takes Yuri in full.

“ _Oh_ -“ Yuri braces himself against he armrests. “Fuck.” There is no daydream, no jerk off fantasy, no painting as good as seeing his dick disappear into Otabek’s mouth. His throat- _when would Otabek have ever_ -  
“Oh my god-“  
He can’t think. The room is gone. Everything about himself is gone. Nothing but color and warmth and unfiltered pleasure reflect back into Yuri’s eyes.  
Otabek’s head starts to bob. His tongue smoothing up and down along Yuri’s shaft with him. It’s wet, so so fucking wet. Wet and hot and pushing him far to the edge. Otabek hums and sucks more. 

“ _Mm_ -“ Yuri grips into the armrests with a sharp shaking exhale, watching him. Otabek’s face devouring him, the perfectly carved edge of his jaw, the dip in his cheek deepening as he vacuums the space inside his own mouth for Yuri’s cock.  
“Otabek- you’re- _fuck_ -“ Yuri closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Otabek’s back moves with him. The muscles rippling and flexing with every dip. His shoulder blades morphing as he grips into Yuri’s thighs, moving to his balls, moving to his hips, his waist, fingers digging back into Yuri’s ass. It’s like Otabek’s whole upper body is fucking him as it moves.  
Otabek pops off and opens his mouth fully at the base of Yuri’s cock and licks a long wet stripe up to the top of his head and consumes him back down.

Yuri sucks in a breath and reaches for him. His fingers running down from Otabek’s hair to his cheek to the sharp edge of his jaw. Otabek’s stays, dick deep in his throat, and looks up, knowingly.  
_It’s_ -  
So fucking beautiful.  
Yuri stares with wide wet eyes. Otabek sucks him and moves faster.  
With a low groan, Yuri’s hand slides to Otabek’s upper back and pushes deep into the muscle. His eyes roll into his head and he closes them as he tilts back and lets himself fall. “I’m-“  
Otabek hums and becomes cursed in his greed. His mouth twisting and unforgiving, demanding to be fed everything inside.  
“Fuck!-“  
Yuri cries, his other hand gripping and crushing into the armrest.  
He comes.  
He comes so hard every part of him shakes. He cries again and curves in, gasping as Otabek swallows all of him down. Yuri’s eyes squeeze shut and a tear trickles out.  
“Otabek-“ Yuri moans out, collapsing back into the chair, swallowing and trying to catch his breath. “ _You_ \- you are not supposed to be good at that“ Yuri pants, “you‘ve only-“ Yuri puts a hand to his forehead, legs still twitching, “dated through handwritten letters. Using a fucking quill.”

Otabek lifts off, smiling and kissing the inside of his thigh. “Mm. But I’m so good with a quill.”

“God dammit-” Yuri leans forward and takes Otabek’s face in his hands, staring at his mouth, “You’re- fucking hot.”

“Mm. I’ve wanted to do that for so long-“ Otabek whispers, smiling into his mouth. “I like the way you taste, Yuri-“  
Yuri whines.  
Otabek brings himself up, keeping his face close, “ _I like it so much_.”

Yuri whimpers, unable to hold himself back from kissing him. Otabek lets him and kisses back deeply, angling his head and bringing Yuri up to stand with him.  
Their arms wrap around each other, hands pulling and trailing and bringing the other in tighter. Yuri breathes out and goes for Otabek’s pants, needing to feel him, his tongue watering from watching Otabek swallow down Yuri’s.  
Yuri bites down on Otabek’s lip, tugging at his pants and lowering himself to the floor.  
Otabek watches, fingers brushing back Yuri’s hair as Yuri removes the pants and underwear in his way, gripping Otabek’s dick and immediately pushing it into his mouth. 

“Mmm-“ Otabek stares down at him, fingers raking through Yuri’s hair, his hips already subtly rolling themselves into Yuri’s mouth.  
Yuri takes him in all the way, and moans, fingers gripping into Otabek’s ass, wanting him in deeper. “ _Yuri_...” Otabek’s hands hold hard onto Yuri’s head, he groans low, Yuri can hear him hissing through gritted teeth, “I’m not like you, Yuri- I can’t-“ 

Yuri pulls off and looks up at him. It’s pitch fucking black in Otabek’s eyes, he wants to devour Yuri, wants to prop him up and fucking devour him. Otabek aggressively brings him back up to his mouth and kisses him, plunging his tongue into Yuri’s mouth. Yuri’s legs nearly give out so he bands his arms around Otabek’s shoulders to keep himself up. 

Otabek steers them to the bed. And without being told Yuri sits, his eyes quickly darting back to Otabek’s cock wanting to twist his tongue over it again. Otabek takes his chin and tilts his head up, “Turn around and get on your knees.” His thumb reaches and pushes down on Yuri’s bottom lip, his brows furrow on it. Like it makes him angry. Like Yuri’s bottom lip is what’s driving him to this dark place. Yuri darts his tongue out and kisses it before sliding himself back with a relaxed smile. 

Yuri raises an eyebrow, “Why?” He knows how dangerous this is. “What are you going to do?” He’s a fucking masochist and he doesn’t care. Yuri wants to test it. Wants to test how deep of a shade of black Otabek’s eyes can get. Because it is _so so beautiful_...

Otabek doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans to the side and opens the top drawer of the bedside table, taking out a bottle of lube. Yuri gives a cocky smirk, watching Otabek squeeze some in his hand, slicking it over his palm and fingers.  
Maybe Otabek was going to pin him, spread his legs and start working him with his fingers...  
Yuri feels himself churn at the thought.  
_Yes_.  
But-  
Otabek doesn’t pin him. Doesn’t even move closer to the bed. Otabek stares at Yuri, eyes deepening, his hand going to his own perfect hard cock, the one that was just in Yuri’s mouth, and begins stroking it.  
Yuri’s eyes widen to saucers.  
_No_ -  
Otabek makes a low groan.  
_No_ -  
He looks down, watching his own fist move up and down himself.

“Otabek-“ Yuri sits up, glaring.

Otabek rubs his thumb over the head, spreading the fresh come over with it. His breath shakes. He braces his knee on the bed. Continuing. Faster. 

“Stop-“ Yuri demands it, his body aching from the sight of Otabek’s dick being hard and threatening to come when Yuri is right fucking here are you fucking kidding me. Yuri whines, feeling desperate, “Otabek- _Don’t_ -“ he starts to plead. 

Otabek’s eyes that look like the night lock on him, “Get on your knees, Yuri.”

“Mm.” Sweeping his hair to the side, Yuri positions himself. 

“Face the headboard and move up,” Otabek says it, no longer touching himself.

Yuri does.

Otabek trails the tips of his fingers up Yuri’s thighs. It’s wonderful because of course but also terrible, because Yuri can’t see him as well this way- and when he’s so fucking beautiful like this...  
It doesn’t matter. All complaint empties Yuri the more Otabek’s fingertips brush fire against his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and the back of his neck. Then with both hands Otabek grips into his ass, Yuri returns it with a moan and lets his arms collapse, pressing his face into the pillow.

Otabek kisses one cheek.  
_Mm_  
Otabek kisses long and gentle. He presses in more, opening his lips and circling his tongue. Yuri’s fingers grip into the pillows on either side of him, breath anticipating.  
He moves. Otabek moves to the other cheek. Doing the same thing. Maybe harder. When he gets to the crevice separating the two, he licks a long stripe along the inner side. Then the other.  
_Oh_ -  
Otabek’s hands grip into his ass again and spread. Yuri bows his head more, teeth biting into his lip.  
He licks. Otabek licks him. Licks the skin between the cheeks of his ass and breathes against the dampness he creates. Yuri shakes a breath out, teeth clenching, biting back a cry.  
Otabek presses his face further in, his mouth hot and wet. Yuri whines into the pillow, feeling Otabek’s tongue circle over his entrance.  
“ _Holy fuck_ -“ his legs are tense but keeping themselves up for Otabek to feed. He does. Otabek laps his tongue against Yuri’s entrance, dipping and digging itself into the creases.  
Slowly, Otabek presses a finger in, his tongue swirling with it, using the space it creates to make room for his tongue to move however it wants.  
“Otabek!” Yuri gasps, his head turned on the side, lids half open, mouth panting. _It feels_ \- it feels like surrendering.  
This is his life. Yuri’s life, in this exact moment, is this hotel room. Naked. Being fucked by Otabek Altin’s tongue. His hungry fucking tongue. Otabek fills him with the warmth of his tongue. He wets everything inside until Yuri’s walls drip. Otabek keeps nuzzling his face in more and it’s fucking everything, Yuri pushes back on him when he does. _Oh my god_ it’s fucking everything.

“Fuck me-“ Yuri pleads, his cock already filled and ready. “Otabek, fuck me.” He twists his head against the pillow.  
Otabek doesn’t. He just keeps eating him and pulling him in closer. His fingers aiding him and spreading him more. Tears spill out from Yuri’s eyes, his hips circling and pushing against Otabek’s face.  
He wants to come. He could come. He’s going to come.  
Otabek pulls off and slaps his ass with a sting.  
Yuri gasps open mouthed into the pillow, closing his eyes, trying to mentally stabilize his dick from where it was seconds ago. 

Otabek reaches over and grabs a condom from the drawer, tearing it open and rolling it onto his dick with a fresh coat of lube.  
Yuri feels Otabek’s lips on his back and he closes his eyes again, sighing. How can it be this fucking good- How can he kiss like this- when he-  
Otabek slides his dick between the cheeks of his ass.  
Yuri pushes up on his arms, leveling his back, and looking over his shoulder. Otabek sees him and leans down to to kiss him on the mouth. Gently. _How_ \- He kisses like that after devouring his ass like a fucking demon- no maybe angel- which one eats ass like it needs it to live?

Otabek kisses Yuri’s temple and brings himself back up. “Yuri-“

Yuri looks up at him.

“If it’s too much, you need to tell me-“

Yuri gives a smirk, “ _Mm_. You too.”

Otabek makes a low noise and grips deep into Yuri’s hip and positions his dick at Yuri’s drenched entrance, rubbing the excess lube from his fingers over it once more. Yuri brings his head forward and closes his eyes.  
Otabek pushes in and they both hiss out a long breath. Yuri chokes out a cry at the end. His arms want give out but he keeps himself up. It’s been months but he can’t imagine this ever _not_ feeling this way. Not ever feeling like explosions are ripping through him and bursting all his senses. And hearing Otabek collect himself after entering him- that alone he could come from. 

Otabek’s hands brace himself against Yuri’s hips, tensing as he pushes all the way in. He stops, waiting for Yuri to adjust and then slowly pulls himself out and slides back in. Yuri sighs with a small smile.  
With careful control Otabek moves in and out, holding Yuri at his hips, sometimes trailing his fingers along Yuri’s sides and lower back.  
Yuri wishes he could see him. He twists his head back and drinks him in as best he can. The way his body looks controlling his movements over his desires.  
Yuri smiles. “You’re so fucking hot, Otabek.” His eyeslids are heavy, wanting to close from how warm the inside of him is getting. 

The control Otabek has is loosening, Yuri can feel it, he moans. The thrusts become sharper. Faster. Otabeks hands are back on his ass, pushing and massaging. He grips into Yuri’s hips and pulls him back into his dick.  
“Oh my god-“  
He’s claws at Yuri’s back.  
Pushing into him.  
Yuri pushes back. Meeting him. Wanting to match him. Pushes back so hard he has to brace himself or he’ll get off balance. Otabek takes a sharp inhale and grabs a fistful of Yuri’s hair at his his nape.  
“ _Hah_ -“ Yuri arches more. Otabek thrusts harder. Yuri’s eyes water. No fucking way people can’t hear them. Otabek is fucking him into the bed. Into the wall. Into the fucking floor. Yuri has no control over the sounds he’s making.  
Neither does Otabek.  
Yuri’s cock stays untouched and it doesn’t fucking matter. He’ll come anyway. Otabek pumps hard, smacking hard, the sound echoing rhythmically through the room. Hitting harder and harder against that part inside him... that glowing mess of pleasure inside him. “Oh god- _Fuck!_ -“

Suddenly Otabek slows.  
_No no no no_ -  
Yuri whines and squirms down in frustration. His head smashed into the bed looking up at him.

“Otabek, _please_ ,” He says it with tears in his eyes, “ _I need_ —“

“I’ve wanted to do this for _so long_ , Yuri- be in you like this-“ Otabek’s face looks enraptured by Yuri’s body below him, he snaps his hips and pushes in deep 

Yuri gasps, eyes closed, and smiles, “ _Yes_ —“ 

Otabek rolls his hips in circle. “Touch you like this.”

“God. _Yes_.”

“Don’t hold back, Yuri, and I won’t either.”  
Yuri strangles out a cry and gradually Otabek picks his pace back up. Fucking him like before. Hard. And fast. The white light burning brighter and brighter filling every space in Yuri’s body. He’s drooling into the blankets. Brighter and brighter.  
Otabek leans down, hugging himself to Yuri’s back, his lips pushing hard into his skin and like the benevolent god he is, he grips Yuri’s aching bulging cock and pumps. He matches it to his own thrusts.  
Every sound empties from the base of Yuri’s throat. He’s wild. He should be fucking caged.  
Otabek is twisting his wrist and murmuring into his ear. “You’re so beautiful, Yuri. _You’re so beautiful_ \- I look at you and I imagine making you come-“  
Yuri sucks in a breath and braces himself.

“Oh my god, fuck, Otabek! _I’m_ -“  
He stuffs his face into the comforter and cries. Long hot streams shooting from him. Pulsing out. Never ending. Wave after wave of shuddering. He’s trembling. His breath can’t catch up and he whimpers into the wet comforter under him.  
Otabek slows down his strokes and his thrusts. Breathing into the back of his neck.  
Yuri slowly opens his eyes, stabilizing his lungs. He moans long and slow and pushes into Otabek’s dick. Still needing him to keep going.  
Otabek’s forehead presses hard into his back. He rolls his hips slowly. Kissing the skin between Yuri’s shoulder blades and hugging himself even tighter to Yuri’s back. 

“ _Yuri_ ,” He sighs helplessly.  
Yuri pushes back faster.  
Otabek makes a frustrated sound and finally lets himself meet it. Yuri gives in again. Freely. Happily. Falling into the same pool of pleasure. Otabek is pumping masterfully. Practically vibrating into him. 

“Oh holy- _shit_ \- Otabek, how are you _fucking real_ -“

Otabek buries his face, his moans muffled into Yuri’s back. He’s fucking himself into Yuri so hard and fast its impossible to decipher when he leaves and enters again- It’s all just one hot flame burning brighter and brighter.  
It climbs and climbs until Otabek cries between Yuri’s shoulder blades.  
Until finally every movement causes Otabek’s body to tremble. He gasps, fully releasing into him. Falling apart entirely and wrapping himself tight against Yuri’s back to keep himself steady. 

They breathe.  
And begin to collect themselves.

As soon as Yuri feels Otabek pull himself out, Yuri falls down fully onto the bed, collapsing onto his stomach. Probably laying in his own fucking come, he has no idea, he still can’t feel anything except the spirit of Otabek’s dick fucking him into euphoria.  
He hears the snap of the condom being tied and thrown into the trash bin. Then warm lips start kissing down his back. He hums into the pillow, closing his eyes. Otabek kisses down his spine, up his sides. Soft kisses pressing into his shoulder blades and the nape of his neck.  
Yuri sighs, nestling in more and smiling relaxed into the pillow. It’s- _gentle_. And because Yuri’s so freshly pliant from having been fucked like he just was all he can do is let him. Let Otabek kiss him everywhere like this. Gentle and soft, tender and adoring. 

“Otabek-“ Yuri mumbles into the pillow before lazily rolling over onto his back. Otabek promptly starts kissing the front now. Yuri’s chest, his ribs, his stomach, coming back up to his collarbone. Yuri sighs. Letting him. Even letting himself like it more than he ever thought he could.

Yuri’s eyes catch the window, his fingers lightly brushing back the still damp hair at Otabek’s forehead.  
“It’s snowing.”

Otabek stills, nuzzling into the base of Yuri’s neck. “Mm. Is it?”

Yuri stays looking out, arms wrapping themselves around Otabek’s shoulders. Otabek slides down and rests his head on Yuri’s chest, looking out too. Fat snowflakes float outside the window, falling heavy over the already white draped city. 

Obviously, Yuri has seen snow before. Obviously, this isn’t even the first time it’s snowed while they’ve been here.  
But it’s never snowed outside while Otabek has been laying naked and warm against Yuri’s chest like this. 

Yuri holds him in tighter, blinking blankly at the scene outside. “Damn. This is boring but- whenever it snowed like this when I was a kid I’d be out there in it. And I’d stay out for _so long_. My clothes would be soaked. I’d take my gloves off, cause I wanted my fingers to hurt. And my lips would turn to that gnarly goth purple. By the time I’d come back in I looked like I was in a fucking horror movie. Like a creepy dead ghost child, the one that like stands in hallways and points at stuff. And when uh- when Grandpa saw me he’d get so fucking mad.” Yuri laughs, “which yeah- who wouldn’t. Dumbass kid purposefully freezing himself- he’d be like ‘ _why Yuri, why do you do this?_ ’ I didn’t tell him but I did it cause I really liked the feeling afterwards for some reason.” Yuri wraps tighter around Otabek’s shoulders, “I don’t know why but I really liked that feeling when I wasn’t cold anymore.” He swallows, “He’d wrap me in blankets and then set me down in front of the furnace and order me to stay put. Sometimes he’d run a bath, you know, grumbling the whole time. And I just- For some reason I really liked sitting there. I liked looking outside. Watching the snow, remembering how fucking cold I was while I sat in front of the furnace getting warm. All these blankets on me. Like- safe, I guess.”

Otabek presses a long kiss into Yuri’s chest, eyes closed.

Yuri feels an anticipatory ache in his heart, “Otabek. Have you ever kissed someone outside while it’s snowing?”

Otabek sinks deeper into him, thumb stroking Yuri’s waist, “Mm. I don’t think so.” 

“Me either.” 

“Would you like to?”

Yuri keeps his eyes on the snow falling outside, eyelids heavy.  
He nods.  
“Yeah.”

...  


**=======**


	17. Part III: 5. Glaciers

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway  
6 days till Closing Ceremony**

...  


They sleep in cause they can. Finally.  
Yuri still wakes up first and grabs coffee.  
When he gets back he climbs into bed and sits up against the headboard, catching up with messages on his phone. Otabek stays sound asleep next to him. Randomly Yuri will peer down and smile over his coffee cup.  
_Fucking cute_.  
When Otabek wakes up he rubs his face into the pillow and blinks his eyes open. 

“Hey.” Yuri grins, teeth biting into his coffee cup lid.

Otabek smiles sleepily up at him, “Yuri- come here.” 

Yuri sets his coffee cup down and snuggles down. Otabek kisses his forehead, holding him in closer. He makes a displeased sound, “Too many clothes, Yuri.”

“Oh, well they refused to serve me coffee when I showed up ass naked. I did try though-“

Otabek smiles, “Did you?”

“Yeah. Me winning silver _really_ has a lot of people concerned.”

“If I worked there and you showed up naked I’d give you free coffee.”

Yuri laughs. “Thanks?”

“Mm.” 

Yuri pokes his bare chest, “If I worked there and you showed up naked, I’d ask if you’d like to fuck me, and then give you free coffee.”

“So nice, Yuri. I would say yes.” They laugh. Otabek tucks a strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear, “Do you have to leave soon?”

“Mm. I have training with Yuuri then training with Victor then more fucking press spots then I’m-“ Yuri stretches and yawns, “having dinner with some corporate overlord but- that shouldn’t be too late they’re all so fucking old they usually have to end things by like 7. You?”

Otabek looks up, trying to piece it all, “I have brunch with my sister, then training, some meetings- I was going to ask what your plans were for dinner but-“

“Yeah. I wish I didn’t have any. Were you _uh_ -“ Yuri tries to picture it but can’t, “were you gonna cook?”

“ _Ah_ \- no. I’m rather disappointing there-“

“If you visit I’ll cook.”

Otabek stares at Yuri’s mouth, “You said ‘if’, Yuri.”

 _Right_. A self conscious blush blooms in Yuri’s cheeks, “I dunno- something could happen-“

“I’m visiting.” Otabek kisses him. “Stop doubting.”

“Mm.” Yuri curves in more, frowning. That’s like asking Yuri to not- glare. Or something.

“What will you cook?”

He looks up. It’s one of the first questions Yuri asked himself when he imagined Otabek staying with him. It made him angry because he’s learned not to look forward to things. In his experience there’s a higher chance statistically of things not working out or falling through. But- these butterflies flickering in his intestines are fucking rabid when it comes to Otabek. And when he thinks about Otabek visiting him then tops it with the idea of making food for him like some sort of god damned normal person... the butterflies get _violent_. Yuri presses a finger to Otabek’s lips, “Good shit.”

Otabek sighs and kisses it then kisses his head. “I like good shit. Will I see you at the practice rink?”

Yuri blinks through the rare ‘shit’ appearance. “Maybe. Depends when Yuuri and I finish.”

Otabek turns onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, considering saying something. “You know that everyone- they all wait around so they can watch you.”

“ _Ha_. Yeah. I know,” Yuri rolls his eyes, absently picking at the bedspread, “I always figured it was cause it’s the closest anyone gets to seeing Victor on the ice again since he goes through most of it with me-“

Otabek shakes his head with a disbelieving laugh, “You’re kidding? You have seen video of yourself in practice, yes?”

“I guess-“

“It’s not for Victor, Yuri. I can assure you.” Otabek sits up and stretches out his back, Yuri watches the muscles move, shifting and flexing, Yuri isn’t sure what art is but he’s pretty sure Otabek’s back qualifies. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, Otabek runs a hand through his hair and starts reading. 

_Wait-_  
“You watch me in practice?” 

Otabek gives a half smile, still reading over his phone, “Mm. The practices I knew you’d be at have always been the ones I look forward to most.”

Yuri’s brows knit. _Since fucking when_ \- “Really? Whenever I’d look over it never seemed like you were ever paying attention. And like- I definitely fucking looked.”

“Well, I’ve honed the skill of watching you unnoticed over the years.”

Yuri looks away to the bright white sky blaring back. Hearing it has a kind of weird stinging effect. “I wish you hadn’t. Would have been nice.” He‘s aware of his face having just fallen slightly so he gets out of bed to shake it, feeling Otabek’s eyes on his back.  
_Ah_ -  
“ _God_ -“ He keeps forgetting every time he stands up- Yuri stops and leans an arm on the edge of the bed, huffing out a laugh through the soreness from last night. “Well, everyone gets to enjoy all the fucking wincing I’ll be doing at practice today-“ 

Warm arms wrap around him from behind and like a serum being injected in him Yuri goes limp. Otabek pushes his hair away and kisses the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry.” 

Yuri makes a disapproving sound and tilts his head back, holding the arms around his waist. “No-“ He looks down, brushing his fingertips over the hair on Otabek’s arm, “Besides, I’ll just tell them I got drunk and slept with the whole USA snowboarding team-“ 

Otabek laughs, “Yuri!” 

“No yeah, the best part is they’ll all be like ‘eh, it could have been the USA snowboarding team _and_ drugs so we should thankful’.” He wishes he was kidding. They laugh and Yuri twists around to face him. “Really. I don’t mind.”  
It doesn’t last long anyway. Just a momentary invisible ache that lasts less than a day. A faint lasting stain from the darkness in Otabek’s eyes from loving him like he needs him. Besides- with time he’ll adjust faster...  
“I like remembering it.” 

Otabek’s breathing deepens, he’s staring at Yuri’s mouth. 

“When I say ‘it’ I mean-“ 

“My penis, yes, I got that”, “-your dick.” 

Otabek kisses him. He kisses him like Yuri just said something romantic. Which makes Yuri laugh into his mouth and pull him in tighter. “You’re naked, Otabek.” 

“Mm.” Otabek reaches back for the coffee on the bedside table and takes a sip. “You’re not.” 

Yuri gives a knowing smirk, “That’s cause I’m leaving.” He hooks an arm around Otabek’s neck and kisses him, breathing him fully in before having to turn off half his brain to get through the day. “I’ll see you tonight. But before then- I dunno, you could let me see you look at me at practice. That‘d be fucking cool for me maybe-“ 

Otabek makes a low groan and pulls him back to his mouth. “Don’t be passive, Yuri-“ 

Yuri slips his tongue in for a quick second then pulls back, “Don’t be sly, Otabek-“ 

They lock eyes and hold it. 

_Fine._

“I want to see you look at me.” 

“You will.” Otabek kisses him, “I’ll make sure you do.” 

It’s useless- Pretending not to want him-  
Yuri’s hand claws down to Otabek’s ass and he grabs it at the exact same moment he crushes their lips back together. It’s morning and there’s already so much fire in him he didn’t know he could have. Otabek pulls him in tighter and angles his head dominating Yuri’s tongue under his.  
Yuri grins into his mouth, keeping his hand on Otabek’s ass like it’s fusing into the flesh. Then, because it’s not possible not to when Otabek’s naked and warm and looking at Yuri like he knows something no one else does, Yuri dips his body down and moves in to suck him. 

Otabek makes a surprised low moan, his hands going to Yuri’s face and hair, brushing it back, sweetly, far too sweetly when Yuri’s mouth is filling itself with his warm hard cock. Yuri moans, tightening a fist around the base and moving it with his mouth. He twists and he slides. _More_ \- He digs his tongue into the slit and swirls it over the crown.  
Otabek hisses out a breath, holding Yuri’s hair back, his hips twitching to move. 

Yuri pulls him more into his mouth, inviting Otabek to _yes_ \- _please move_. He looks up. Otabek brushes through Yuri’s hair with his fingertips, and slowly pumps into him. _Yes_ \- Pleased from the movement, Yuri closes his eyes, sucking harder and sliding faster against the speed of Otabek’s hips. He will never get used to this. He knows. Something in Yuri just knows. Otabek’s dick leaks into his mouth, and Yuri savors every drop, letting it roll over his tongue before sliding down his throat. 

Otabek’s breathing staggers and Yuri speeds up, hearing the hiss of an inhale come from between Otabek’s teeth.  
“Yuri-“  
Yuri angles his head, swirling his tongue along the underside as he pulls up and back down.  
“ _Mm_ -“  
Yuri hums and snaps Otabek’s ass harder to his mouth and holds- Otabek curves over, gripping the top of his head. His mouth drops open as he gasps, coming into Yuri’s throat. Yuri looks up, catching his blurred eyes and swallows. Like Yuri just saved him from falling into the depths off a cliff - even though it’s really the complete opposite. Otabek cradles his face with one hand, and Yuri slides his mouth off, kissing the tip before licking his lips and smiling satisfied up at him. 

“You’re about to tell me you have to leave, aren’t you?” Otabek asks with his breath still catching up to him and eyes pleading that he’s wrong. 

Yuri grins and nods, “I do.” He stands and brings him into a light kiss. “But I’ll see you tonight.” He knows he’ll regret it less than an hour after he leaves but Yuri likes the idea of making him fall apart without needing anything until they’re together again. 

Otabek nods, tracing his tongue along Yuri’s bottom lip before pressing their lips in again. 

“Mm. I’ll see you at practice.” Yuri takes a step back, “I’ll be the one with Victor Nikiforov, you can’t fucking miss him.” 

...  


...  


The practice rink is noticeably busier than it should be for it being scheduled with staggered blocks of training sessions. But Yuri’s used to it.  
Victor and Yakov lead him in, talking to each other first and passing their discussion to Yuri when they agree on something.  
Yuri doesn’t pay attention to the faces staring at him, the way their bodies freeze in place when they see him enter, or the way their coaches size Victor up, insecurity brewing behind their eyes.  
He’s very _very_ used to it.  
All they do in open trainings like these anyway are reviews and a few show off moves. Yuri doesn’t mind it. There’s a sliver of it that’s actually enjoyable. Feeling everyone watching him all stiff and pretending they aren’t- it can be fun.  
The only person Yuri has ever darted his eyes to is Otabek. But Otabek has never looked back. He was always engrossed with something on his phone, in a conversation or going through his own warm-up. It would always sting and Yuri would take it out on the rink seconds after his eyes left him.  
Right now Yuri keeps his vision forward, doesn’t look for him at all, takes his skate guards off, and smoothly pushes off into the rink.  
He whips around, doing a quick lap, stretching out his arms and his neck, waiting for Victor to finish his conversation with Yakov.  
He speeds up, feeling eyes on him, he does a simple triple toe loop, and on landing unzips his jacket, crossing back over to the rink entrance to throw it over.  
While adjusting his gloves Yuri sees Victor enter in, waving over to another coach and asking how they’re doing. Yuri rolls his eyes and does another lap. Jumps a triple lutz then catches Victor finally motion to him. Yuri slides to a stop, ready.

“Ah, here we are. Let’s start with our spins then shall we, Yuri? Those could always use some tightening-“

...  


It isn’t until Yuri gets into his quad jumps, specifically his quad toe loop that he spots Otabek staring. Staring deep into him, like he’s staring into his skin. He’s leaning against the rink edge, headphones clasped at his neck, Leo’s muttering something to him that he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to. Yuri looks away, a half smirk creeping on his face as he does another jump with a triple immediately following.  
He doesn’t have to think doing this, Yuri never does. He often wonders if others do. Victor tells him to gather more speed and do the quad flip. He does. 

Otabek gives one more glance then walks over to his coach, saying something. Yuri looks down, skating over to where he left his water bottle and leaning back to drink. Victor meets him and starts discussing the choreography changes they’d been talking about for Worlds. Yuri nods, agreeing with the points he’s making, eyes half darting to the outline of Otabek across the rink. 

Otabek’s coach waves to Victor asking if they’d mind another body in there cause apparently Otabek wanted to work something out real quick.

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up along with everyone else’s. But for very different reasons.  
Everyone else sees the gold medal winner stepping into the rink with the silver. A not at all subtle show of competitiveness weighing heavy in the air.  
Not that it isn’t that.  
But it’s a lot more too.  
Victor and Yuri nod that it’s fine. Otabek pulls his guards off, discards his jacket and pushes in. Not looking at them.  
Everyone whose standing by stares wide eyed and tense. No one willingly puts themselves into a practice rink with Yuri Plisetsky. Especially in a reality where someone managed to beat him.  
That’s just-  
Fucking dumb.  
Unless you’re Otabek Altin.

He goes immediately into a quad toe loop, triple axel.  
Fuck.  
_Hah_ -  
_Okay_.  
It takes everything in Yuri not to smirk like an asshole. The whole fucking room is dead quiet. 

Victor looks on, arms crossed and says under his breath, “Well Yuri, I can’t tell if this is ill-meaning or if someone has a crush on you-“

Yuri rolls his eyes at Victor’s obliviousness but also not obliviousness and pushes off, speeding up into a quad flip triple toe combo. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees JJ jerk up and walk off, like his brain couldn’t handle seeing it. It feels fucking good.  
Otabek’s eyes meet Yuri’s for a split second before going into another quad toe loop triple Salchow.  
Yuri subtly shakes his head. 

Everyone who isn’t them or Victor looks like they might be dying.  
They go back and forth. Landing jump after jump. Cutting into the ice underneath them. Sweating into their clothes. Barely looking at each other. Their coaches silent, looking on, yelling out a quick critique here and there. Neither Yuri or Otabek pay much attention since that’s not what this is.

Yuri unhinges his jaw, panting.  
Otabek is on the other side of the rink, doing the same. Wiping his mouth after guzzling down water.  
He looks _so fucking good_. Yuri darts his eyes away, knowing how his brain will just go deeper and deeper if he stays on him.  
Otabek crosses over, sweat glistening on his face, meeting his gaze before exiting the rink.  
Yuri pushes off a couple minutes after. 

Victor grins at him, looking away.  
“What a fun show that was, Yuri-“

“Don’t.” Yuri sits, taking his skates off and killing the rest of his water bottle. He slings his bag over and heads to the bathroom to piss, ignoring everyone as he walks out. It did feel good. It _was_ fun. And it _definitely_ was a show. Yuri might not have a fucking clue what to do with his skating anymore but _that_ -

His brain full on stops when he flings the door open and sees Otabek at the sink. 

“ _Oh shit_ -“ he breathes. 

Otabek looks at him then looks at the door swinging shut behind him. 

Yuri looks over his shoulder, “There’s no lock.” Quickly, Otabek crosses to the back that leads to the showers.

“There’s one here.”

“Thank Christ-“ Yuri crosses and steps into the empty room with him. Otabek pulls the door shut and clicks the lock.  
They collide instantly. Wet fire on wet fire. Yuri drops his bag, arms locking around Otabek’s shoulders, pulling him in tight, lips open and tongue reaching. Otabek slams him against the door, moaning into his mouth.  
Both their clothes are soaked in sweat from before, their scents musky and humid. If he could Yuri would squeeze Otabek’s shirt into his mouth and drink it like nectar.  
Otabek’s tongue licks into him, his head angling, hands clawing into Yuri’s hair bringing him in closer.  
Yuri gasps. “We have to be fast, I have to meet Vict-“

Otabek presses his palm into Yuri’s crotch and starts tugging his trackpants down. 

“God, _yes_ -“

Otabek moves off his lips and hungrily starts biting and licking into his neck. Yuri tilts his head back, hands groping into the muscles in Otabek’s back. The way his muscles supported him when he cut into the ice- over and over- Otabek goes down on his knees, pulling Yuri’s pants and underwear down all the way and buries Yuri’s dick into his mouth.

“Fuck-“

Yuri bangs the back of his head into the door behind him, breath hitched. Otabek sucks, pulling and sliding down with his mouth, his hands gripping into Yuri’s hips and thighs. Twisting his tongue around Yuri’s shaft, Otabek coaxes a cry from Yuri that he tries to bite back. Yuri stares helplessly down at him- the neediness in Otabek’s movements, when just moments ago he was matching Yuri on the rink with every fucking jump. “God _dammit_ , Otabek-“ Yuri grips into his hair and rolls his hips, Otabek quickens his pace, grasping Yuri’s hips, encouraging him to move. “You’re fucking hot-“  
Yuri sucks in a breath and rolls more, cupping the back of Otabek’s head and watching him suck.  
Otabek licks a long stripe up his cock, looks up, then envelopes him into his mouth again. Yuri presses his lips together, silencing a whimper, his eyes in pain.  
“ _I’m_ -“

Otabek moans, relentless in his pace.

“Fuck-“ 

Otabek grips into his hips and pushes Yuri’s cock all the way to the back of the his throat. Yuri breaks, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, “Mm-“  
He comes.  
Otabek drinks it down. Swallows all of it with every twitch of Yuri’s body. On the last shudder, Yuri lets out a long moan and finally opens his eyes. Otabek comes off, kissing his thigh then gingerly pulls Yuri’s pants up till they’re secure.  
Yuri grins, “Thanks.” He runs a hand through his hair and wipes at his eyes, slumping against the door.  
Otabek smiles back, standing up to kiss his neck. 

“I hope you didn’t mind- _you_ -“ Otabek’s brows tense, “you always look so good at practice, I wanted to be with you-“

Yuri huffs a laugh, brushing Otabek’s hair back, “Mm. I didn’t mind. It’s crazy though, isn’t it? That even with a sore as shit asshole I could beat-“

Otabek pinches Yuri’s lower back, blinking blankly as Yuri squirms under him. 

Yuri flashes back to everyone’s faces and breaks out laughing, “Wow. They- they all think that we must fucking hate each other-“

Otabek grins, “It’s true. I hate you terribly, Yuri.”

“Mm.” Yuri pulls him into an open kiss. “I hate you so fucking much-“ 

Otabek pulls at Yuri’s waist to arch his back to him. His tongue twists over Yuri’s and he sucks it out. He breaks off and moves his face to kiss Yuri’s cheek, “I love you.”

Still with a slight pant, Yuri leans his head into Otabek’s cheek, “I love you.” They hold a minute longer before Yuri bends down to pick up his bag.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

...  


**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
5 days till Closing Ceremony**

...  


“Do you re’ e’ ba’ tha one?” Yuri is sitting up on the bathroom counter, mouth foaming with toothpaste. Otabek’s hair is still twisted and sticking up slightly from having just woken up. If Yuri liked eating people he would eat him.

Otabek furrows his brows, still brushing his teeth, “Whi’ one?”

“She ha’- _fuck_ -“ Yuri bends down and spits. “She had pencil eyebrows and wore crazy ass red lipstick every day. She was either like 32 or 95 years old. No one knew. You _have_ to remember her-“

Otabek squints, brushing harder. Yuri grins and spits again, rinsing his mouth out.  
“Otabek. She was _so fucking mean_ -“ Yuri starts laughing, “I once heard her in a class with a bunch of 5 year olds and she said something like ‘Anton, no one will ever marry you if you continue to have such weak noodle arms-‘“ Yuri bows over laughing, “ _He was 5_! They were all 5! She’s like ‘Anton, how can you ever expect to take care of a family and a house if your arms look like sad pathetic string beans that have been run over by a car?’” Yuri doubles over again. 

Otabek stares bewildered and bends down to spit. “Yuri, that’s terrible-“

“She was so mean! Fuck-“ Yuri wipes at his eyes and leans back. “I loved her class.”

“Why!”

“What! Did you not just hear me? She told 5 year olds they had noodle arms and should feel bad about it! They’re 5! Have you met 5 year olds! Of course they have noodle arms!”

“Yes, that’s why that’s a terrible thing to say-“

“No. I fucking loved it.”

“Did she ever go after you?”

“Fuck yeah she did! Although not as much as everyone else. Honestly, it’s what kept me in ballet in the first place- The instructors were _so fucking mean_. And they were mean to all the kids I couldn’t fucking stand. They’d be like ‘ugh Olga, I hate you you’re terrible go away and never come back. Why can’t any of you be like Yuri?’. And their faces would just-“ Yuri pops his hands by his head, “-explode.“

Otabek takes a towel and wipes it over his chin and jaw. “I guess I can see that-“

 _Wait_ \- Yuri softens suddenly, mouth parted. Remembering. He reaches a hand out to run a finger down Otabek’s jaw, “Were they mean to you?” He stills at the center of his chin, a slight glare pushing behind his eyes. 

Otabek sighs, “Incredibly mean. Yes.”

“I’ll kill them.”

Otabek laughs. “You just said you loved it.”

“Yeah when it was to like fucking Anton and me and everyone else. Not you. Never you-“ Yuri pulls him down into a kiss. “They don’t get to do that to you-“ Yuri grips into Otabek’s hips and pulls him between his legs, kissing up into his mouth. “ _Ever_.”

Otabek smirks at him and licks into his mouth, “It’s okay, Yuri. I beat their star student at the Olympics, I think it’s turning out alright for me-“

“Beat him _and_ fucked him-“ Yuri corrects him, angling his head more. 

“Mm.”

“Made him beg for you-“

“Yuri-“

Yuri grins “You’re so fucking cute in the morning, Otabek. Keep kissing me-“

...  


**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
4 days till Closing Ceremony**

...  


“Wha’ duh’ yo’ si- _fuck_ -“ Yuri twists around and spits into the sink. “What does your sister say about me? You have brunch together every day, I assume she knows at this point-“

Otabek nods, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. He spits. “I think she’s just relieved. Sworn to secrecy and relieved-“

“Yeah? So, she knew that you-“

“Mm, we never explicitly talked about it but-“ Otabek leans his head to the side and looks down, “For her I imagine it was rather blatant-“

“I see. You had like... cut outs of me?”

Otabek grins, “Not as many as you had of me-“

“No. Nice try but you can’t shame me for something I feel _zero_ shame for- 

Otabek kisses him, there’s still toothpaste at the corner of his mouth and Yuri grins, pressing his mouth in more to lick it off. 

He swallows and looks down, guilt seeping into his gut. “Mm. Does she kind of hate me though?”

Otabek pulls back, brows knit, “Hm?”

“Cause like- it took so long... and you said you were sad and maybe she blames me for-”

“Oh, no. _Not_ \- no. She hasn’t- she wouldn’t say anything like that. _I_ -“ Otabek sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I assume she thinks we’re both idiots.”

Yuri relaxes into a smile. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.”

Otabek smiles back and kisses his temple. “She used to announce whenever you were on the TV.”

Yuri‘s eyes go wide. “What!”

“Mm. I’d be in the other room and she’d yell out that you were on. She did it because I’d always come out and watch-“

Yuri gapes at him then bursts out laughing. “And you guys just _never_ talked about it?”

“No.”

“She just did that?”

“Mm.”

Yuri doesn’t care how pink his face is getting. He leans his forehead down and laughs into Otabek’s shoulder.

...  


**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
3 days till Closing Ceremony**

...  


“No-“ Yuri holds his phone to his ear and opens the door with his other hand. “Yeah but I don’t actually care about renewing that contract so-“  
Otabek looks up, eyes bright as the door shuts behind Yuri.  
Yuri gives a half smile to him and slides his bag to the floor, growing increasingly bored with this conversation he’s stuck in. Especially now that Otabek is in front of his face. With his face. Looking the way his face does.  
“Cool, last I checked my accounts were fine so the money isn’t the issue here- I just remember the brand placement not being worth the fucking effort in the long run- especially as I said before, I don’t actually care about it-“  
Yuri rolls his eyes, looking at the floor, slowly making his way over to the couch. “I hear you- _Oh_ , hey, shit!- can you hold on a second I fucking spilled wine on my shirt- hold on-“ Yuri puts his phone on mute and drops down, straddling Otabek’s lap and hungrily pulls him into a kiss. With a shocked sound Otabek instantly leans into it, parting his lips and kissing him deeper. That tidal wave of warmth slips into Yuri’s mouth and he moans, moving down to teethe into Otabek’s bottom lip.  
He sighs, “Sorry- this’ll be done soon- it’s too fucking late for this, I don’t know why they need to have this conversation now-“

Otabek rests his forehead against Yuri’s and smiles “It’s fine-“, his fingers curl into Yuri’s waist. 

Yuri unmutes and presses the phone back to his ear, staying exactly where he is. “Sorry- that was a good fucking shirt, I didn’t want to get it ruined-“ he says it blankly, his fingertips running through the hair at the back of Otabek’s neck.  
Otabek leans in to kiss Yuri’s jaw and Yuri tilts up, eyes closed, biting back a sound, he nods “Yeah-“ he clears his throat, “Well, I don’t know, there’s no fucking reason for them to take it personally so why is that-“ Otabek kisses down his neck, pausing to suck lightly into his skin. Yuri braces himself, eyes squeezed shut, trying not to sink too deep in the feeling-  
“ _I_ -“ he swallows, goosebumps on his arms forming, “Right. Exactly. So you’re basically saying what I was saying at the beginning of this conversation. Great-“ Yuri blinks and flips an exasperated hand out. He frowns, “Yeah- loud and clear- I’ll be there- yeah, you too, bye.” Yuri drops his phone to the floor, “Fuck!” 

Otabek pulls off his neck, “I think I may have had that same conversation earlier.”

Yuri gives a tired smile, “Really? The same amount of fucks and everything?”

Otabek brushes Yuri’s hair back, “They push and push and when they finally hear it- it’s like they were never pushing.”

Yuri feels a flush at his cheeks.  
“Mm.” He nods with a soft tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

Yuri looks at him and falls completely, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s shoulders and tucking his face in.  
Otabek smiles into his ear, kissing it, holding him there.

...  


**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
2 days till Closing Ceremony**

...  


The sound of a late night infomercial and Otabek kneeling in front of him, stroking his hair back, is what Yuri wakes up to.

“Hey-“

“Mm-“ Yuri pouts with a tired frown, barely awake.

“Sorry, it’s so late. Dinner went long-“ Otabek strokes his thumb across Yuri’s cheek. “I missed you.”

“Mm.” Yuri presses his face into the couch and yawns. “You fucked me this morning-“

“Mm. And I missed you.”

He blinks into Otabek’s warm gaze, “I always miss you. You’ll be in front of me and I’ll miss you. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.” When he’s tired and half asleep Yuri’s words have a habit of pouring out of him like there’s a leak at the back of his head. He twists around so he can stretch his spine out. _Fucking couches are the fucking worst_ -  
“ _Oh_ , hey- Otabek you look fancy.”

Otabek looks down. “Yes I do.”

“Was dinner at the prince’s annual ball or something? Jesus-“ Yuri pushes himself up and rubs at his eyes.

Otabek stands and pulls him up with him. His legs nearly buckle but Yuri steadies himself and lets Otabek lead him to the bed. He tosses his shirt off and falls to the mattress, crawling under the covers. Beds are so much better than couches- he needs to remember that next time- He nestles into the pillow and watches with heavy eyelids as Otabek undresses down to his underwear.  
Yuri doesn’t want to but he closes his eyes... the sound of Otabek brushing his teeth and washing his face soothing him entirely. And right when he’s tipping off to the depths of sleep he feels the mattress dip and a warm body press against his back.  
And lips. Lips kiss at his neck. Gently brushing his hair away and kissing more. Softly Yuri moans and pushes his hips back into him.  
His eyes snap open.  
_Fuck_ \- he can feel him. Otabek is semi-hard and kissing his neck. The reality of their time together in this hotel room ending in only a couple days hits Yuri like a train. Yuri shakes off the sleep which was moments ago pulling him under. He presses his hips back harder. 

Otabek’s lips part more and his tongue rolls into Yuri’s skin. Moaning again, Yuri reaches for Otabek’s hand and guides it to his crotch. Otabek pushes himself up more, kissing into Yuri’s ear, breath heavy, his hand reaching inside Yuri’s joggers and wrapping itself around him. 

“ _Yes_ -“ Yuri groans, still rolling his hips back against Otabek’s dick. The feeling of Otabek’s body pressed into his back, curled around him, desperate to envelope him in light.  
Otabek pulls Yuri’s pants down and reaches for the lube to slick over his hand. It aches without him- Yuri whines and Otabek’s mouth quickly returns to Yuri’s neck while his hand goes back to stroking fire into his cock. The feeling of Otabek’s wrist twisting bringing him closer to bliss- Yuri moans in relief.  
It doesn’t take much. He’s too tired to hold back and too helplessly turned on from Otabek’s hard cock rolling against his ass while his hand blankets him in warmth.  
He tenses, mouth open, hitching a breath. Otabek strokes faster, twists faster, thumb rubbing over the slit-  
“Otabek-“  
Yuri lets himself fall- he trembles and gasps into the pillow. Come pouring from him and onto the sheets and Otabek’s hand. He groans. Otabek pushes up to get the box of tissues to wipe his hand off, still kissing Yuri’s face while he does it. 

He wipes them both down and dabs at the sheet.  
He’s cute. Otabek has no idea. He’s so fucking oblivious to it but Otabek is so fucking cute. Even when he wipes up come soaking on a bedsheet.  
He tosses the tissues to the waste basket and lays back down to the bed. They smile at each other. His eyes sweep over Yuri’s face and he reaches a hand out to turn Yuri more to him, pulling him in so their foreheads rest. 

It sucks that they need to sleep. Yuri could cling to him, rock into him, sweat with him and kiss him until the sun peaked in the distance if it wasn’t for fucking sleep. “I need you-“ Yuri breathes, his fingers trailing the outline of Otabek’s hard cock still confined in his underwear. Otabek swallows, looking at him like he might split at the seams, and nods.

Reaching for the lube, Yuri squeezes it into his palm. Otabek brushes a hand over Yuri’s cheek and holds it, his eyes locked on Yuri’s face. Yuri slides in under the waistband of his underwear. He grips into Otabek’s cock, biting behind his lips and drinking in his reaction. Otabek’s eyes deepen, his mouth opening more and more with the pace of Yuri’s strokes. 

“Take them off-“ Yuri orders it kissing his top lip. 

”Mm.” Pushing his underwear down Otabek adjusts back to his side and releases a low groan when Yuri strokes over him more freely, sinking fully into the mattress. Their eyes lock again, faces inches from each other. Their breath fills the space between them, and Yuri sucks it in, wanting his lungs to burn with him-  
He leans in to kiss him, twisting his wrist and rubbing his thumb along the crown with every stroke. Otabek kisses back but keeps losing his focus, dropping his mouth and his tongue, panting deeper to his own climax. Yuri smiles and kisses him anyway.  
Growing in need for him, Yuri pulls his other hand down to help, twisting in the opposite direction, his thumb and finger tips grazing over the most sensitive parts, Otabek tenses, his breath becoming more and more broken. 

“I’m- _ah_ -“

“You can swear if you want-“ Yuri whispers. “If it feels good- you can swear- just to me-”

Yuri goes faster, watching Otabek curve more, his eyes glossing over, and his mouth opening to a silent cry. “Yuri-“  
He shakes.  
“- _fuck_ -“  
Come spills over Yuri’s fingers and both their stomachs. Yuri kisses him, pushing his tongue in and soothing it against his. Otabek moans, still pulsing. His fingers wrapping themselves in Yuri’s hair and pulling lightly but desperately. 

“Mm-” Yuri smiles, “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re right here. You’re right here and I miss you.”

...  


**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
1 day till Closing Ceremony**

...  


It’s another big dinner altogether before the closing ceremony.  
Yuri arrives with Yakov, Yuuri, and Victor. He lingers with them trying to stave off having to join the other skaters for as long as he possibly can. 

At least Otabek would be close enough that they could see each other. Maybe. More people fill in and start taking their seats, he nods to his three coaches and walks off, sauntering over to the long table designated for figure skaters. 

Seating seems to be a free for all- _fucking great_ -  
He grabs the closest chair and Phichit pops out of the god damned ground and pulls at the seat next to him. “Hey Yuri! You mind if I sit here?”

“ _Ah_ \- no. Please.” Yuri takes a deep breath and sits. 

“Yuri! Hey!” Leo sits down across from him. JJ following close by but too engrossed in a conversation with a female skater next to him to notice Yuri’s eyes flash red at him. 

“Hey Leo,” Yuri says giving a polite smile. He looks around trying to spot Otabek but can’t find him.  
He sees Italy’s skater notice the empty seat next to him- _oh_ , France too- both start gunning for it. Yuri inwardly sighs.  
It’s gonna be a long fucking night.  
He looks sadly down at the table, biting behind his lip, maybe they could just leave early around the same time together or... _something_ -

A hand reaches out to grab the back of the seat that doesn’t belong to Italy’s skater or France’s.

“Whoa, Otabek!- did you just run over here from across the friggin’ room?” Leo stares up at him dumbfounded from across the table. 

Otabek swallows down his panting and nods. “Yes.” Yuri looks up, trying to keep his eyes neutral. He spots the other skaters concede to the seats in front of them. Otabek pulls the chair out and drops into it. 

“Ha! _Nice_! Does anyone know what they’re serving for this tonight?”

“Oh, I’m hogging the menu- here Leo-“ Phichit hands over the menu to him. 

Yuri tucks a stray hair behind his ear and mutters to Otabek, “You ran across the room?”

Otabek blinks and adjusts his collar, “Mm.”

Yuri bites hard behind his lip to keep himself from smiling. 

“Otabek!” JJ shakes his head like a cartoon animal, “When did you get there? You drop from the ceiling?”

“JJ, swear to god Otabek just ran across the room!” Leo motions over to the entry door. 

“You gotta up your calorie intake, Otabek. I’ve been telling you that forever. You don’t eat enough. Now you’re running through rooms so you can get some food in you faster- come on, I really wish you would just trust me on this, all you gotta do is ask, I got the snack bag nearby whenever you nee-“

“Thank you, JJ, you might be right.”

“Yes! That’s what I like to hear! 1-2-3-“ JJ bows his head, his finger pointing at Otabek’s blank face. No one says anything. “JJ Style! Yes!”

Otabek glances at Yuri and Yuri catches a glint of wickedness in it. “JJ,” Otabek clears his throat taking the menu from Leo, “I’m just curious, what- what sorts of things do you have in your snack bag?”

If they weren’t around people Yuri would reach over and tip his chair back.

“HEYO! Let me tell you what’s in JJ’s snack bag, always open, always at the ready- we got trail mix. Organic. We got dried apricots. Organic. We got some jerky. Grass fed. We got non-meat jerky. Soy free. We got-“

Yuri imagines taking a fork, throwing it up in the air and hoping it lands straight into his own fucking head. 

“Almonds! Organic-“

“Yuri, have you had a good rest of your time here?” Phichit turns to him smiling. 

Yuri nods. “Yeah. I don’t normally get to travel for this long. It’s been nice.”

“Did you do any sightseeing?”

“Granola bars! Gluten free _and_ organic-“

“ _Ah_ not really. It’s-“

“Difficult. Sorry. That was probably a dumb question-“

“No. I’m sure I could, I just- It’s nice to rest.”

“Sliced carrots. Organic, farmed local-“

“No no, that makes sense. I’ve seen your practices, you must be exhausted by the end of the day, and press and everything else-“

“And one chocolate chip cookie-“

Leo looks up, confused. “Wait what. That doesn’t fit the rest of your snack bag, JJ-“

“Organic. Gluten free. Sugar free. Dairy free and nut free.”

Leo makes a disgusted face, “Ugh, that sounds like it tastes like sand-“

“It does!”

Phichit leans over, “Otabek, my mom saw you on the news the other day and wanted me to tell you she thought you were handsome.”

Otabek smiles embarrassed, “ _Ah_ \- Thank you, please tell her-.”

“Otabek,” JJ has a finger pointed again at Otabek’s face, “You are. Phichit, your mother and I agree strongly about this. You’re a very beautiful man, Otabek. I’ve always said that and I always will,” JJ says all of it very seriously, eyes unblinking. 

“Hah! Hell yeah! Me too! I also agree with Phichit’s mom! Why don’t we all drink to it- A TOAST!“ everyone around quickly holds up their glasses and Leo leads it. Otabek’s mouth is still partly open from his sentence he was mid-way through before. Yuri stares at the wall across the room, blindly raising his glass not saying anything not sure whether this was the greatest thing to have happen or the worst.  
“To Otabek! For being very _very_ handsome-“  
Otabek slaps a hand over his face and holds it.  
Everyone echoes Leo.  
“And to Phichit’s mom, for having the hots for Otabek just like the rest of us!”  
Everyone echoes Leo again.  
Yuri mumbles nonsense sounds, pretending to say it with everyone else and swallows down his whole glass. 

Phichit is bright red, clearly never having thought his mother would turn into a table wide toast.  
Yuri ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, never so thankful that he didn’t have to toast to that prior to them having fucked.  
Otabek still has a hand at the middle of his forehead like he’s in a commercial about menopause during the part that talks about headaches.

Yuri leans in slightly, “Very _very_ -“

“No.”

“Handsome.” Yuri mutters.

...  


...  


They’re all scattered around the hall at this point. Standing and drinking. Yuri has stayed relatively close to Otabek and Leo. Getting interrupted by random skaters or trainers offering compliments and congratulations and guiltily asking for photos.  
Phichit returns every so often to check in on them. Sometimes JJ will stop by then get distracted by something and walk off without saying anything. 

Yuri really just wants to get back to the hotel-

“No no, I’m just saying you’d have more followers if-“

“I don’t want more followers-“

Leo sighs exasperated, “Dude. I know. But if you posted the photos you actually take like on your trips and stuff people would be super into it- Here I can show you-“ Leo pulls out his phone. “Oh! That reminds me! I can show you now, look who dm’d me the other night!” 

Otabek gives a half look at Leo’s phone and responds with a stiff nod turning away fast. 

“Man, he was so nice. That was like a year ago right? Such a bummer that didn’t work out. You dated forever, too-“

Yuri’s drink pauses at his lips. 

“I would hardly consider a couple months forever-“ Otabek mumbles over his glass. 

Yuri’s face stays frozen, mind emptied entirely. Out of his peripheral he notices Otabek’s eyes urgently darting over to him but trying to keep it all hidden.

“Hardly forever? Okay, whatever, Otabek. For you that might as well have been marriage. Wasn’t he like a lawyer or something?”

“Leo, I don’t-“

Yuri walks off, drink tight in his hand.  
_What_ -  
What is that

Yuri shakes someone’s hand who just walked in front of him. Smiles and nods to the words that they’re saying. 

Flashes of a memory filling his mind as he tries to look like he’s listening to what’s being said to him.  
There’s a feeling-  
In this guts-  
The sweat, that creeping heat that went from his thighs to his neck-  
The lights-  
And the faces-  
Night after night-  
And then that one in particular-

The person in front of him grabs his arm, giving it a enthusiastic squeeze and a wide smile before walking off. 

Otabek steps in immediately on his departure, “Let’s go outside so we can talk-“ he whispers it low. 

Yuri keeps his gaze blurred, “There’s nothing to talk about. We weren’t together. I fucked people. You fucked people. There’s nothing to talk about.” Yuri’s voice is somewhere else, he glances at him with eyes that see straight through him to the wall behind.  
He walks off. 

He doesn’t mean to keep walking but he can’t seem to stop. He walks out the hall, drink tight in his hand, walks down a corridor, drink tighter in his hand

He blinks fast, trying to steady his thoughts  
_What the fuck is this_ -  
Why-  
His head  
It’s rewinding  
Before waking up together-  
Before brushing their teeth together-  
Before his mouth-  
Before his chest-  
Before the sex and the mornings and the nights in his bed-

 _Fuck_  
It was so fucking cold  
When he ran that night  
He ran against that cold fucking air  
That cold fucking air that bites hardest at night  
The way it ate at his face  
And he couldn’t stop running  
That feeling-

Yuri’s fist squeezes in on the plastic cup and he throws it against the wall before throwing open a door and slamming it shut. He pulls his suit jacket off, thrashing it to the ground then grips into the counter and leans down over the sink. Eyes glaring.  
_This_ -  
This doesn’t make sense-  
Everything in him is on fire  
Everything  
_And it shouldn’t be_ -  
He squeezes his eyes shut and let’s a silent scream fill his chest.

The door opens.  
He didn’t fucking lock it. Fucking forgot. Or maybe didn’t on purpose. He can’t remember which.  
Otabek steps in and shuts the door behind him, locking it. 

“Yuri,” He holds a hand up, bracing, “it didn’t mean _anything_ -“

“I fucking know that. Don’t you think I already know that? Of course I fucking know that-“ Yuri pushes off the counter and paces across the room. “And you don’t have to tell me that I have no fucking right- I already fucking know that too-“

Otabek starts going to him and Yuri puts a hand up, “No.” He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want the warmth of him right now. Otabek stays where he is, eyes breaking. 

“Yuri-“

“I already knew.” Yuri shrugs, leaning back against the mirror, arms crossed. “I overheard it at a club one night. Someone was saying how they saw you and you told them you were with someone-“ there’s pitiful laughter tickling out of his throat, he taps his foot on the ground, “You wanna hear something _so fucking pathetic_?” 

Otabek stays locked on him, concern filling his face.

Yuri smiles at himself in disgust, “When I heard it, I _uh_ \- it’s so stupid, but I took off,” he nods, “just ran right out of the fucking club-“ His eyes are glazing over, “I was drunk- and I ended up running all the way back to my apartment,” his leg is bouncing, “it was like 2 in the fucking morning, it was the dead of fucking winter, it was _so fucking stupid_ -“ He sees all of it, he keeps sucking in air to keep from crying, “And then when I got home _I_ \- I couldn’t stop crying. All on the god damned floor.”

Otabek looks like his chest might be caving in, like something might burst through and pull Yuri into his arms whether he wants it or not.

“And even though it didn’t make sense for me to think this way... cause why wouldn’t you be with someone? Why not? Nothing was stopping you. You had every fucking right. I know that. _But_ -“ Yuri‘s eyes blur into the ground, “I think the only reason I was able to get up off the floor that night was cause I thought that- there was this chance that it wasn’t real. There was a chance you hadn’t- you hadn’t gone and chosen someone to be with. Maybe you hadn’t. _Maybe you_ -” Yuri stills his leg, glaring at it. He shakes his head, refusing to finish the sentence. “Also, hey- good timing cause that’s the night you sent me a fucking congratulations text.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh, “You didn’t know but in a single night you were able to break my heart twice. So... high score goes to you.”

Otabek blinks, lips parted, “I-“

“Why was being with someone else better for you than just telling me?“ Yuri looks at him, eyes filled to the edge, threatening to overflow, “Why was that better?”

Otabek furrows his brows and his back snaps straight, “Because I would have rather been miserable for the rest of my life alone or in a relationship that meant absolutely nothing than lose you entirely, which is what I was convinced would happen had I told you. _You left me_ , Yuri.”

Yuri blinks, then pushes off the wall. He picks up his jacket. “Yeah,” He pulls it on and picks his hair up out from the collar. “Like I said. I already know I have no fucking right.” He sniffs, adjusting his sleeves. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

Otabek watches him, “Yuri,” he pauses on something then forces it out anyway, “Can I touch you?” 

Yuri looks at him, face pale and tired, “No.” He crosses to the door and leaves.

...  


...  


Yuri gets through the rest by staying close to Yuuri and Yakov. Saying goodnight to everyone who stops to say their goodbyes. Shaking hands and thanking. He and Yuuri end up going back to the hotel together, Yakov and Victor having been pulled into a deep conversation with another coach. They walk leisurely to the elevator, making small talk about nothing. A few others trickle in, including Otabek, all of them piling into the elevator together. 

Yuri pushes for his own floor and he sees Otabek stare devastated at the lit up button the rest of the ride. 

Almost everyone empties out on the first stop.  
Only Yuuri is left. The next stop comes and Yuuri says his goodbyes with a nod to both of them before walking out.

The doors close and the two remain silent. Otabek looking like he wants to say something but can’t. Yuri doesn’t have the energy for anything, his eyes forward and tired.  
It stops on Yuri’s floor.  
Otabek bites behind his lip and swallows, looking out at the hallway.  
Yuri takes a step-  
“Yu-“  
-to push the button for the doors to close. Otabek’s shoulders drop from relief.

When the doors open to Otabek’s floor, Yuri walks out first, still not looking at him. Walking silent and empty. He leans against the wall next to Otabek’s room, waiting. Gaze down.  
Otabek unlocks it and opens the door for him.  
Yuri walks in, and crosses over to the bed, unbuttoning his jacket, not looking back, he hears the door shut behind him.

“I should have kissed you.”

Yuri stops. 

“I should have. I should have kissed you, Yuri.”

Yuri looks over his shoulder. 

“You were right. It should have been me. And- I didn’t. And it doesn’t make sense because all I ever did was think about kissing you. I thought about it all the time. It didn’t matter where you were. I saw you, and I wanted to kiss you. I pictured myself kissing you so many times. And I- I didn’t.” Otabek looks at him, eyes glossing over.  
“I was going to ask you to dinner. Two years ago. _I really_ \- I really wanted to ask you to dinner, Yuri. It was Worlds. I had this whole thing planned, there was a restaurant across the street from the hotel on the corner. After the competition, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to dinner with me and I was going to take you there-“

Yuri’s breath hitches  
A tear rolls down his cheek  
No one has ever asked Yuri to dinner

“-I was going to take you there and then I was going to kiss you. I was _finally_ \- I was finally going to kiss you. It’s all I wanted. And when the time came- after they took our photos- I saw you, and I couldn’t. I froze. I couldn’t do it. Something in me told me it was pointless. I couldn’t imagine you ever saying yes.”

Yuri cries, staring at him  
He would have said yes. Of course he would have said yes. It’s Otabek. He would have been _so happy_. If Otabek had asked him to dinner Yuri would have smiled and nodded and laughed and been so _so_ happy  
He wouldn’t have had to run in the cold

“I thought I knew you. I thought I was different from everyone else. But I wasn’t. I was the same as them. Even with the time we spent together I still- I still didn’t see you the way I should have. I still saw you like they saw you.” Otabek swallows, “People see you Yuri, and you are so brilliant, and you are so talented, and you are so beautiful and they expect _you_ to help them not feel insecure by it. Your whole life you have been expected to take care of everyone’s feeling of inadequacy while feeling shame for the things you are.” 

Yuri’s eyes widen, unblinking.

“It was selfish of me, I needed you tell me it was okay. And- you shouldn’t have had to. There came a time- we had enough years at a certain point- it should have been me. You deserved to know that I wanted to take you to dinner. Whether you accepted or not, it shouldn’t have mattered. You are brilliant Yuri. You’re talented. You’re so beautiful. And none of that means you don’t deserve to know when someone wants to take you to dinner. I failed both of us. I did. Because I was too ashamed by my own convincing that you couldn’t possibly feel anything for me.”

Yuri always felt everything for him

“I put you so far up, I made you so unreachable- I made you unreal. It shouldn’t have been you. It should have been me. For once in your life, Yuri, someone should have had the courage to reach out to you and see you and hold you and _I_ -“ Otabek winces on a thought-

“ _God_ , and it _still_ had to be you. It was still up to you, Yuri. _You had to kiss me_. I’m going to regret that probably infinitely. And I will be trying to make up for it the rest of the time you’ll let me- but I promise, you, Yuri. I’m here. I see you and you don’t- you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. Not that you were, I know you have your grandfather and Yuuri and Victor and Yakov, I just mean-“

“I know.”  
Yuri nods, and bows his head, a cascade of tears falling down his cheeks with every blink. 

Otabek takes one step forward then freezes in place, afraid to move. 

“Otabek, hold me.”

“ _Oh thank god_ -“ Otabek lunges and wraps him in his arms, breathing out a sigh of a relief.

Yuri holds him back tight, crying into his shirt. That surge of warmth wraps around him, seeping into him and pools into his chest. He presses his face in harder, eyes squeezing shut. “Otabek-“ he sobs softly, “Why would you date a fucking lawyer?”

Otabek laughs through his own crying and shakes his head, “I don’t know,” he leans his head against Yuri’s, “it was so fucking boring-“  
Yuri laughs and pulls back. Otabek holds his face and starts kissing every part of it.

“I fucked up too.” Yuri says. “I didn’t-“

“Don’t. I know. It’s okay.”

Yuri leans into him again, closing his eyes and dropping his head.  
For the first time his brain isn’t running nonstop. Isn’t thinking of twenty things at once. He’s just- slumped over. Like this. Like a sad bag of potatoes that’s been left out in the rain.

Otabek lifts his head suddenly. He stands up straight and pulls back, holding Yuri at his arms, “Yuri. Stay here. Promise me you’ll stay right here-“

Yuri blinks back at him, confused. 

“Will you?”

Yuri sniffs and nods. 

Otabek kisses his forehead. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

Otabek runs out the door, the sound of it shutting echoing around the room. 

Yuri stays standing, confused and unsure what he should do.  
He looks down and takes off his suit jacket and sets it on the chair. He grabs some tissues and empties out his nose as best he can, releasing a shaky breath while wiping at his eyes. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed, facing the door and waits. He could start replaying back everything Otabek just said but... he’s not sure if he has the energy to cry again. And it was a lot...

The door opens and he snaps his head up. 

Otabek runs to the closet and throws him his jacket with the hood while switching out his own. “Put that on and come with me-“

Yuri looks down at the jacket in his lap and puts it on. Otabek waits for him by the door then leads him out. They pause behind corners when there’s the sound of people walking by. The butterflies- they’re awake and ravenous and eating into Yuri’s insides. Otabek navigates them to the back stairwell and they climb.  
Yuri following a few steps behind.  
They climb to the top.

There’s a closed sign in front of the door but Otabek pushes past and opens it anyway. 

“Otabek-“

“It’s fine. I put it there. I stole it from one of the bathrooms in the lobby. Come on-“

A smile tugs at Yuri’s mouth and he steps around it. Heart skipping. Otabek swings the door open more, revealing the empty roof of the hotel.  
It’s white. Coated in a blanket of untouched-

_Oh_

It’s snowing. 

Yuri’s breath stops.  
Tepidly he walks out, looking out into the city, snow falling down, cold air biting at his face. _He doesn’t_ \- he doesn’t know what to do. _He’s never_ -  
Otabek reaches back to pull his own hood up then turns to him and uses both hands to pull up Yuri’s, covering his head and shielding his ears. Yuri looks at him, eyes wide and clear, arms crossed against his own chest keeping himself warm.  
Otabek leans in, hands still cradling his face outside his hood, and kisses him.  
They’ve never kissed without four walls around them.  


Snow floats down  
All around them against the night sky and the city glittering back. Giant snowflakes catching on their dark hoods, on their foreheads and their shoulders. Their breath hot and ghosting around them.  
It’s _so fucking cold_.  
Yuri tucks his head into Otabek’s neck and presses in close. Otabek wraps his arms around him tighter. 

“Thank you for waiting for me, Yuri,” Otabek murmurs it into his hood and leans in more, “I’m sorry you had to.”  
Yuri buries in deeper, his eyes filling.  
Otabek is _so warm_. It’s like being covered in blankets and sitting in front of a furnace, watching through the window as snow falls and falls...

...  


**=======**


	18. Part III: 6. An Incrustation

**=======**

**Winter Olympics  
Oslo, Norway  
Post Closing Ceremony  
_24 Days to Worlds_**

...  


It’s 2:30AM and the walk to the rink is mostly deserted.  
He has his head down. Bag slung over. Hands in his pockets trying to keep them warm. No one spots him. Anyone who’d be out this late has enough of their own shit going on.  
It’s a rare night where Otabek fell asleep first. But Yuri planned for it happen that way. He called someone on his team earlier to ask if they could reserve a rink for him late. No spectators. No coaches. Just him. They asked him which rink-  
The practice rink?  
Or the arena?  
He didn’t hesitate. 

Before he left he wrote a note on the hotel stationary and left it on Otabek’s nightstand just in case he woke up worried.  
Then he wrote another one and left it on his side of bed in case Otabek looked there first.  
He also sent a text. _Just in case_.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t just told Otabek earlier- but for some reason he just... couldn’t. He didn’t even tell Yuuri. It’s probably cause he doesn’t really even know what it is he’s doing. _He’s_... he doesn’t know yet- it’s just a thing.

There’s a security guard out front. Yuri walks up, lifting his face against the cold air. Sometimes a human face can also be a key or a badge or a government issued ID- a neat perk from selling ones entire identity to the masses. The security guard gives a blank nod, letting him through.

Yuri heads straight to the rink, the heat and silence of the building soothing all the tension that came from walking in the cold frigid air outside.  
The center lights above the rink are on. But the stands aren’t. They stay dark, blackened in shadow. It’s eerie. Like the ghosts of a crowd are watching him. Or he’s in that part of a dream where the floor opens up and he falls down helplessly watching as it closes above him.  
It’s perfect- exactly what he wanted, alone and quiet.

He changes to his skates, does a few stretches then glides out onto the ice.  
In his mind, the arena transforms-  
It transforms to what it was that night. The stands packed and sweating. Everyone watching him. The music. The familiar sureness he had. The same sureness he’s carried with him since he can remember.  
That _thing_. Yuri taps into it, telling it to wake up.  
He moves through his program. Blades cutting into the ice.  
He dips, crosses, then brings his arm up and reaches out...  
... holding it...

He glares

His jaw clenches. He pivots, whipping around the rink faster, doing it again, moving through his program, remembering the faces, the sureness, _the sureness_ -  
Again, he reaches...  
And holds...

god  
_dammit_

He grits his teeth and immediately goes into a different program, one that he won gold for. He remembers and morphs the room into that night instead. He speeds, lowering down, his fingertips grazing the ice, daring the invisible faces, the confidence of his competitors, the judges’ uptight egos, anyone with eyes and a mind, daring them to tell him he was anything less than perfect, anything less than great, anything less than first, anything less than what they imagined-  
he lifts up and reaches...

“Fuck!” 

_It’s not there_

He stabs his blade in harder and moves into another program, one from his earlier years, where the fire in him first learned how to blaze. He tears into it like he’s seeking revenge for something. Far more aggressively than he ever did when he performed. Forcing blood to boil in his veins, splitting them open. Daring everyone all over again. His turns are sharp. His jumps are clean. He floats into position, bringing both hands up, clasping them together and raising them, reaching...  
... reaching...

_No_

No

You-  
_have got to be fucking kidding me_

Nothing

There’s nothing there.  
It’s gone.  
It’s still gone.  
Not a trace of it anywhere. It’s pathetic. He loses one time so he loses _it_?  
He can still do everything. Move effortlessly. The jumps, the spins- his body does all of it. The execution stays unchanged- _But_ \- inside... there’s nothing. The heat he could always summon for himself. The thing that made him. The blood. Where is the fucking blood? The blood he could make spurt and gush out of his own fucking heart. It won’t wake up- _it won’t_ \- That wire that went from the monster inside his head to the organ beating in his chest- It got cut or it’s hidden or tangled in something else. 

_No_

_That’s_ -  
It’s his.  
That’s his fucking curse  
He bled for it, bruised for it, cried for it, lost his soul for it  
It’s his. Only his.  
So-  
_Where the fuck did it fucking go?_

He looks over to where Otabek shook his hand after winning.  
How frozen his mind was. How heavy his body became. The cheers and the collective shock-

_‘I’m your biggest fan Yuri Plisetsky’_

How Otabek held him after...

Yuri stares up into the ceiling and huffs out a laugh.

“ _Shit_.”

...  


**=======**


	19. After Part III, Before Part IV: Crossing Over

**=======**

**Worlds  
Calgary, Canada**

...  


“Are you ever gonna challenge him again like that day in Oslo?”

Otabek glances, eyebrows raised. 

Leo leans over the rink edge next to him. “Probably smart that you don’t. Especially since he beat you so bad last time-“

Otabek furrows his brows, eyes staying locked on Yuri, “No one beat anyone, Leo. We weren’t compet-“

“Nah, Phichit was scoring you guys the whole time. He definitely beat you, dude.”

Otabek frowns.  
Yuri circles Victor, listening to critiques about a transition he made, eyes sharp and focused, engraving the words into himself.  
Otabek leans more forward on the rink edge, keeping himself neutral. It’s what everyone else does too. Even with Yuri idly gliding as he is right now, it’s still beautiful. It’s the reason there will always be an audience. It’s the reason no one can ever look away. What he becomes when his blades meet the ice- it’s not exactly human. _He’s_ -

“ _So cool_ -“ Leo’s says it like he’s being hypnotized- hypnotized by Yuri’s body- by Yuri’s face- the smoothness of his movements- “Like, you ever think about it? You beat _that_ Otabek. _That_ -“ Leo motions a hand when Yuri lands a quad loop.

Otabek lets a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, he looks down. “Mm.”

Leo rests his head against his hand, “You remember though when Yuri Plisetsky wanted to dance with me?“

Otabek blinks, not looking at him. “You’ve asked me that every week since it happened.”

”I wish I had proof. No one believes me.” Leo sighs looking dreamily on as Yuri lands a quad flip. “My mom calls him pretty but also scary. Sounds accurate right?”

“No.”

“Do you think he’d ever-“

“No.”

“ _Psh_ , okay, I dunno, man. He talked to me a bunch of times in Oslo. Like saying ‘Hey’ and stuff-“

Otabek keeps his face blank until Yuri glances at him, causing his heart to let out one floor shaking beat. He drops his gaze- for Yuri’s sake, if he looks too long something might- show.

“ _Oh whoa_ , uh, dude-“

When Otabek looks back up he sees Yuri skating closer to them, _purposefully_ closer. Victor is busy speaking to Yakov over on the other end. Leo looks like his head just turned off.  
Yuri slides to a stop, sweat reflecting off his skin, strands of his hair sticking to the edges of his face. Eyes piercing. Out here, they are always piercing. 

“Hey Yuri,” Leo says it blushing furiously.

“Hello Leo,” Yuri gives a polite smile, then drops it when he nods back to Otabek, “What are you listening to?”

Otabek pretends that this is absolutely unremarkable. Despite it definitely not being unremarkable. Despite Yuri casually speaking to anyone besides Victor or Yakov during his practice being something that does not happen. Not since they were much younger.  
Leo continues to look like he just happened upon some rare mystical creature and is being very careful not to make any sudden movements so as not to frighten it away.

With his expression unchanged, Otabek pulls his headphones off his neck and hands them over. Yuri takes them, pulling them on, and turning to lean back against the rink edge in front of them.  
Otabek tries hard not to focus on the parts his headphones are touching. His hair. His ears. The sweat at his temples that look like drops of crystal.  
There’s no way Yuri is going to lik-

Yuri turns, shaking his head disapprovingly, pulling the headphones off, and handing them back, “Too slow.”  
Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. Otabek would like to pull him in by the headphones their both gripping and kiss him over the rink edge. Everyone watching or not. He doesn’t care.

Yuri speeds off. 

Leo’s mouth is partly open. “Holy shit.”

Otabek looks down, unbothered, his heart acting otherwise. He clasps his headphones back around his neck, denying his desire to press them immediately to his ears and soak any semblance of Yuri into him. 

“Otabek-“ Leo turns to him, “I know you guys are friends and stuff but like- have you ever had a crush on Yuri? Like- maybe now?”

It’s funny because even though Yuri was the one who skated over to them and talked to him, the perspective from outside would always be Otabek being the one to have feelings for him. It would always be the other person having feelings for Yuri. _Never_ the other way around.  
Otabek might be successful. Might be a gold winner. His friends might toast him their admiration.  
But it’s a different scoring system for Yuri, Otabek knows because he struggled with it for so long. It’s as if no one considers Yuri to be of the same species. Even if Yuri pulled Otabek in by the shirt and kissed him in front of everyone, Otabek knows it’d be him getting asked how he ever got the courage to kiss Yuri like that. Like the idea that Yuri thinks, and feels, and hurts, and wants, like everyone else-

“I admire him.” Otabek shrugs. 

Leo laughs, shaking his head. “Otabek, you’re like the only person on the planet who- you’re leaving already?“

Otabek shifts and bends down to pick his bag up and sling it over his shoulder. Yuri is already off the ice and making his way towards the lockers.

“I’ll see you out front.” Otabek says it already walking off. Taking the roundabout way.  
He clutches deeper into the strap of his bag when he sees Yakov standing outside the door, probably the most impactful bouncer there ever was.  
Otabek does a quick once over around the hall before stepping over to him. They greet each other but don’t say anything, Yakov gives the smallest of nods. Otabek bows his head in a silent thanks and pushes right through. Heart already beating twice as fast. 

Yuri is bent over the bench, packing his bag. He looks up. The door shutting behind Otabek.  
It’s not something Otabek has any control over.  
But when Yuri sees him and his eyes go from that piercing focus they always have, to-  
_This_  
Soft, open, and with a hint of relief all while his mouth breaks out into the literal _sweetest_ of smiles, _my god_ , no one could possibly imagine what it’s like to have Yuri smile at them like this- it’s not possible for Otabek to not feel everything. There have been times when he wasn’t sure whether he was about to cry or pass out. The swell of affection is so overwhelming, it pulls him down so fast under the current, his brain can hardly keep up. Sometimes it just doesn’t. That hard shell Yuri encases himself in at practice and when facing the world is gone. He willingly takes it off. Cracks it open and kicks it far away. And Otabek is the one who gets to stand here and see all the soft colors that have been shifting inside him all along.

“Hey,” Yuri says it smiling, standing up, and running a hand through his hair. 

Otabek has no control, he goes to him and pulls him in. Wrapping his arms around his shoulders and squeezing his eyes shut. They haven’t had any time together yet. Otabek arrived late last night, Yuri early this morning. Yuri stopped by his room to drop off his bags and they got about a grand total of five minutes together before they both had to leave for their respective trainings. 

“Mm.” Otabek breathes him in, resting his forehead against Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri kisses his temple. Otabek presses his face in more.

Yuri pulls back, his fingers brushing at the hair at the nape of Otabek’s neck. His brows knit, “You good?” 

Otabek lifts up and nods, eyes sweeping over the person who just moments ago had everyone transfixed. “Will you have dinner with me? Tell me you don’t already have something-“

An even wider smile breaks out over Yuri’s face. He looks down, color filling into his cheeks. “I don’t.” He nods, “We can.”

Otabek smiles with him, “Mm. I’ll order.” 

Yuri looks back up at him, then seems to get overwhelmed by something so he wraps his arms tighter around Otabek and buries his face in his neck. He stays, holding on like Otabek might be taken away somewhere.  
_It’s_ -  
Really not something Otabek has _any_ control over. If he dies because his chest collapses from filling passed capacity when Yuri holds onto him and looks at him, fine. Really. It’s fine. He surrendered to that very real possibility the night Yuri kissed him.  
Otabek kisses his hair and Yuri twists out to kiss him fully.  
Both make a pleased sound, angling their heads and pressing in close. Their bodies curving into each other-

Yuri breaks it, “I can’t-“ his hands grasping harder into Otabek’s hips in frustration, “I have to go to this fucking lunch-“

Otabek brushes his hair back and kisses his forehead. “It’s okay. I have to shower and change for an interview.”

Yuri perks up with a smirk, “Yeah?” He runs a hand through his own hair, sweeping it to the side, “Are you going to talk about me?”

Otabek nods, “Most assuredly.”

“Are you gonna talk about eating my ass?”

“I had my publicist request I only be asked questions about eating your ass, Yuri. Yes.”

“You don’t have a publicist.”

Otabek laughs, “Yes, I do.”

Yuri snaps his neck back, “You do?!” 

“Mm. Technically I have two.”

“You have _two_ publicists?!”

Otabek laughs and looks at him like he’s not sure how this is surprising, “Yes. Berik and Howard.”

“You have a publicist named Howard?!”

“Yuri, you’ve met him. You’ve shaken his hand and said ‘Good to see you again, Howard’.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. When the fuck do I _ever_ know who I’m shaking hands with, Otabek?” 

“You remembered his name!”

“Yeah, well- look, I don’t know how that always happens- It just does.“ Yuri sighs, “God dammit-“ he falls into him again, “Now I have to get another publicist so I can have three.”

Otabek grins, shaking his head and brushing Yuri’s hair back with the tips of his fingers.  
Yuri slides his hands down to Otabek’s ass and squeezes, keeping them there. He bites behind his lip, “Thanks for letting me listen to your boring music.”

The breath Otabek was in the middle of stumbles, remembering, “Mm.” He leans in and kisses Yuri’s ear, “I’ll have better music for you next time.”

“You should let me listen to your ow-“

“No.” Otabek’s head snaps back fast when he says it.

“ _Ha_! The fuck you won’t-“ Yuri gives a half grin and leans in.

“Yuri!” Yakov bellows from behind the door. 

Yuri’s face falls, “Yeah, got it!” 

Otabek kisses him the minute Yuri looks back from the door. Deepening it the second their lips touch.  
They grip desperately into each other. Yuri’s tongue circles his and Otabek moans from it. Bringing him in by the small of his back. 

“ _Otabek_ -“ Yuri whispers it against his lips. “ _I want you_ -“ His fingers pull achingly at Otabek’s shirt. “Don’t order anything that we need to eat right away, okay?”

Otabek’s eyes close

There is nothing-

Nothing in the world that sinks it’s teeth and pulls on everything inside him as much as hearing Yuri say the words he imagined for so long after convincing himself he never would.  


_‘Otabek, I want you-‘_

Otabek nods, covering Yuri’s hand gripping into his shirt with his own and holding it closer. “I won’t.”

...  


**=======**

**Worlds  
Calgary, Canada  
Post Free Skate**

...  


Otabek told him he wanted to go somewhere.  
Yuri asked him what he wanted to do tonight to celebrate his win, Otabek said he wanted this. To get on his bike and take them here.  
They arrive at a lookout point about 40 minutes out. 

Yuri takes his helmet off, replacing it with his hood to shield his ears against the cold.  
They can see the whole city. The stars outmatching the lights below, spreading infinitely out across the sky.  
They stand side by side.  
There’s no one around. But they’re definitely not used to showing displays of affection outside.  
Otabek steps up and leans against the railing, looking out. He looks happy. _Really_ happy. His eyes relaxed and clear. Yuri hopes Otabek can always have this face. Whenever Otabek wants it. There is no one who deserves to have such a relaxed happy face as Otabek.  
_No one_. 

Yuri hikes a leg up on the railing and leans into his knee, stretching out the back of his legs. Hands stuffed into his pockets.  
It’s peaceful. There’s a soft breeze rustling the trees, the hissing of the branches floating side by side with the wind. 

Otabek parts his lips. He looks like he’s preparing himself for something. Yuri tenses.  
“This next season... I want it to be my last.”  
Otabek looks back at him tentatively. There was no sadness in his delivery, no anxiousness, only peace. “No one knows. Only you.”

Yuri’s pulse quickens like some life threatening danger just presented itself.  
He hates it.  
He hates this.  
_Oh my god_ , he hates this. He goes to say something but stops. He bites it back and holds it in with all his might. Willing it to stay in place. Breathe in it. So he can look at it. Try his best to look at it anyway. Understand it. Ask himself why. 

_Why do I hate this_

Because skating with Otabek was everything. 

It motivated him.  
It’s where he fell in love with him.  
It was a bright spot in a long dark never ending hallway.  
If Otabek wasn’t there...  
Sadness washes over him. All the objection he felt melts into overwhelming melancholy.  
His eyes grow heavy.

Otabek goes even softer. “I’ve been thinking about it, off and on- After tonight- I know.”

Yuri frowns, staring deep into the ground. “Why? You’re so good. _You’re_ \- doing _so fucking incredibly_ -“ He knows why. He doesn’t need to ask. It’s why anyone leaves. Age. They feel they’ve done all they set out to do. They’re ready to finally experience ‘life’. Sleep. Go to university. Whatever it is. He knows why. 

Otabek shrugs, “I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Yuri looks at him, eyes pained. 

“I do.” Otabek presses, “The rank. The acknowledgment. Artistry.” He pauses, “You.” 

Yuri’s frown deepens, he bites back and locks his gaze down to his shoes. 

“Truthfully, I never planned on doing this into my mid twenties. I’m already older than I thought I’d be when I hung it all up.”

Yuri makes a sound that he doesn’t like it.  
“ _And_..” Otabek continues but with a tinge of concern in his voice, “I’d like to be with you, Yuri. Being away from you is... I don’t think it’s possible anymore. Not after all these years. I don’t even know how I’ll put up with it for another one.”

Shit. Now he doesn’t even know what he’s emotional over anymore. Probably all of it.  
“You still want to move?” He manages to get it out. 

Otabek nods, smiling, “It was always the plan.”

“What if you hate it?”

“I _hate_ ” Otabek says it with a punch in his voice, “being away from you. I can’t find the sense in it. There isn’t any.”  
A cold breeze blows by them, Yuri bows his head down to keep his hood from sliding.  
Otabek’s eyes sweep over him, half smiling half struggling, going between the two with every word, “I _uhm_ \- I know this is a ways out but once next season ends- I think I’d like to take a year before delving into whatever is next.”

Yuri’s breath catches. Despite everything Otabek just said, fear floods him envisioning another year having to be apa-

“I’d like that year to be with you. I don’t know how or what you’d prefer living wise. And you don’t have to make any decisions now, I don’t want to get in the way of your training or career, I fully sup-“

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Otabek,” he breathes out a relieved laugh. “Yes. I mean. If you’re asking whether you can move in with me, yes. _Obviously_ yes. I mean... _well_ \- okay, I actually don’t know if that was what you were asking, you haven’t even visited yet and we’ve spent like collectively maybe two weeks in a hotel room, the majority of it fucking each other, I get if you need some time first befo-“

“It was. Yes. I was. I was asking that.”

They stop and stare. Eyes grateful and happy and relieved and sad and maybe the tiniest bit anxious. It’s easy. It has always been easy. There is no one else on the fucking planet Yuri would ever say yes to living with him. Fucking no one. But with this- he knows. He always knew. Just like he knew Otabek’s dick would be perfect, or how Otabek was better than everyone else, Yuri also knows living with Otabek isn't something that he needs to ease into or think about- not for himself at least. It’s been too many fucking years knowing and hurting from knowing. Now he can just know. Know that it’ll be easy and hope that Otabek doesn’t change his mind.  
Despite the sadness still aching at the pit of his stomach, Yuri smiles. He takes a long deep breath.  


“God. This is really confusing, Otabek. Feeling really fucking sad and now... not sad.”  
They laugh tiredly.  
“Okay.” Yuri nods, conclusively. “I mean. I think you just bit off a piece of my heart but... _shit_ , I do really like thinking of you being there. I _uh_ \- This is so fucking lame, but sometimes -“ He keeps going, knowing his cheeks are flushing, he closes his eyes to make it easier, “When I come home- I try not to do this but sometimes I can’t fucking not- I imagine that you’re already in there. You know-“ He slides a cold hand into his hood and runs it up the back of his neck “-waiting for me. I try not to think about it. I’ve always been afraid of— I don’t know... In case it never happened—“ Yuri opens his eyes again, cheeks burning.

“I would like that...” Otabek imagines it with eyes wetter than before, “... greeting you when you came home.”  
_Fuck_ \- They’re both fucking lame then. But _it feels_ \- maybe it feels nice. Maybe feeling nice is-  
_That’s_ -  
Okay. It’s okay. It can feel nice. This is nice. It feels nice. It’s-  
_okay_  
Yuri sees the smallest wet trail leading down Otabek’s cheek, he looks happy again. Only happy. “I’d like having the cats around me,” Otabek sniffs and imagines it out loud, “perhaps your favorite pornographic film on, ready for you—“

Yuri laughs. “Fuck off.”  
Otabek quickly glances around them before taking a step toward him. He takes Yuri’s hands in his and stares down at them. Yuri’s breath hitches. Even just this, being out in the middle of nowhere, no eyes on them, having Otabek hold his hands is still so new. He wishes it didn’t make his body tense up so much. Doesn’t make sense. Especially when they’re already making plans for him to move in next year for fucks sake-

“I think...” Yuri starts, nervously, “by then, it should be known. We should, let everyone know.”

Otabek looks up, surprised. “You don’t have to make that decision right now. I barely know the details of my own retirement. But,” Otabek brushes Yuri’s hair back under his hood, “I do think when it comes to that, the decision should be yours. Whatever you choose, I support. It will have a greater effect on you than it will me at that point—“

“Would you have come out with it already? If it were up to you?” Yuri asks curious. 

Otabek struggles, his thumbs tapping against the back of Yuri’s hand. “It’s too easy for me to say yes, isn’t it?- it‘s not appropriate. Even if I had, I don’t know if it would have been the right thing to do.” Otabek smiles fondly, “You’re a lot cleverer than I am when it comes to that sort of thing, Yuri. Cleverer than all of us. You’ve always known what people are thinking before they do.”

“ _Ugh_ no. Don’t- not that. Don’t blow smoke up my ass when you’re the one that fucking won tonight-“

Otabek kisses him.  
And it’s terrifying. Because they’re outside. And anyone could drive up or suddenly appear from behind a tree or a bush. Or the sky. Or wherever the hell people manage to appear from. 

“I want them to know,” Yuri kisses him between saying the words, “We can wait till the day after the season ends or release something a couple months before, either should work. I don’t know yet.”

Otabek nods. “You don’t have to decide-“

Yuri shakes his head, “No. It’ll have to change. If you’re not there— it won’t be the same and I can’t pretend that it is. Things will have to change. _God_ -“ He brings his hands to his face and groans, “The questions are gonna be so _fucking stupid_. I remember when Victor and Yuuri started getting interviewed about it.. It was _so fucking dumb_.”

Otabek nods looking off into the distance. “We’ll have to practice.”

Yuri peeks between his fingers, “Practice?”

“Mm. We take turns preparing the other.”

Yuri breaks out into a smile, bringing his hands down. “Right. Genius plan. Okay. Let’s give it a shot now.” Otabek leans in to show he’s ready. Yuri taps a finger to his own chin, “Otabek Altin, what big plans do you and Yuri Plisetsky have after this win?”

Otabek furrows his brows, considering the question. 

“Probably anal.”

Yuri bursts out laughing. “Otabek! No. What! You’re terrible at this.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get better. Your turn.” They swap.  
“Yuri Plisetsky, when was the moment you went from being friends with Otabek Altin to something more?”

Yuri gets serious, pondering at the sky. “Uh. Well... it might sound surprising but our story doesn’t differ from most people. One day Otabek leaned in while we were having anal and-“  
Yuri slams a hand to his forehead,  
“ _How did that even happen?_ Shit. Alright well... This might actually be fucking impossible.”

They lean in, pushing against each other, laughing like the literal two worst fourteen year olds. 

“One more one more,” Yuri holds up a finger, turning serious again, ready to ask the question he hates the absolute most, “Otabek Altin, any wedding bells in your future?”

Otabek stands still, staring hard at the ground, 

“Not at this point. There’s so much more we still want to do before something like that- Travel. Purchase some art. Have more anal-”

Yuri flips his hands out of his pockets confused and laughing harder, “‘ _Purchase some art_ ’?! Otabek!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry. I blanked. It’s really difficult, Yuri.”

“Think of our sponsors, Otabek! For fucks sake. Here, let me try one more time. Listen and learn.”

Otabek grins and crosses his arms again, “Yuri Plisetsky, what’s it like to say goodbye to Otabek tonight as a competitor?”

Yuri takes a deep breath.  
“It’s incredibly emotional, George. He’s been there so much for me over the years. It’s hard to imagine skating without him. I’ll never forget the time we stayed up all night, watching movies and eating pizza. Whenever we weren’t having anal we’d— oh FUCK!”

“Yuri! You were so close with the eating pizza part!”

Yuri tips his head back, in dramatic disbelief. “God dammit. Well. I guess we have no choice we’ll just-”

“Tell them we have anal.” Otabek nods, seriously. 

Yuri nods back, matching his seriousness. “For _every_ question.” 

“Mm. It’s honest.”

They grin.

They look around one more time before stepping up and wrapping themselves around each other. Otabek leans in to bite at Yuri’s bottom lip, and pulls him into a kiss.  
“I do look forward to purchasing some art with you, Yuri-“ He hums it low.

Yuri cackles into his mouth, “What does that _even mean_?”

“I don’t know. But I am looking forward to it.”

...  


**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
5 Days After Worlds**

...  


Practice at the studio ended early today.  
For this shit.  
This needed to be over the minute Yuuri brought out a fold out chair for Victor to sit down in. 

Yuri leans against the mirror, staring outside, arms crossed. Hating. 

Victor’s foot is bouncing excitedly over his knee, eyes darting between Yuri and Yuuri, his smile wild and uncontrollable.  
“Tell me and get on with it! I’m too old for this, both of you-“

Yuuri takes his husband’s hand and soothes it then looks back over at Yuri.  
Yuri shrugs. 

They had to tell him. 

As soon as Yuuri and Yakov had agreed on travel dates for Otabek to visit, they all knew they’d have to tell Victor. There was no avoiding it. Not when there was a chance Otabek would need to train at the rink and Victor‘s known unpredictability day in and day out...

When Yuri imagines hell, it’s this. Telling Victor he’s in a serious relationship with Otabek Altin.  
In fact, it’d be great if like, this whole building just decided to plummet into the concrete. 

“Victor, _uhm_ \- well- we were waiting to tell you but- now _uh_ -“  
As if Yuuri would be any better at getting the words out when Victor is hanging on to each one like it’s a picture of his own face-

Yuri pushes his foot off the wall with an exasperated sigh, “Otabek and I are dating. He’s visiting next month for two weeks. We’re gonna be closing the rink if he needs to use it with me. No one can know. I’ll literally never speak to you again if-“

“YURI!” Victor shoots up from the chair. 

“No. God. Please no-“

Victor pretends not to hear, levitating over with his arms outstretched. Yuri was stupid and cornered himself so he can’t get away. Victor pulls him into a suffocating hug. 

“Oh my god, _Yura Yura Yura_ -“ he coos swaying him side to side. 

Yuri is past the dead part of being dead. He’s a rotting larvae infested corpse. 

Victor pulls back, looking at him. “I’m _so happy_ for you, Yuri. Otabek is-“

“Don’t.” Yuri does not want to hear this. He can’t think of anything he’d want to hear less. He sees Yuuri’s red cheeks and embarrassed smile and shoots a glare that says death is coming for him. 

“He’s _wonderful_ , Yurio. Otabek is so _so wonderful_. Oh I’m so happy this finally happened. How long has it been? Yuuri, we were just talking about this. What did we say? Five years? Was it four? Four years of yearning between you two-“

“Six. We’ve known each other for six years. Doesn’t mean we were yearning- And don’t talk about us like-“

“ _Six years_! Yuuri! They were in love for _six years_!”  
Yuri wants to throw himself out the god damned window and face plant on the sidewalk. 

“Okay!” Victor braces himself against Yuri’s shoulders, their faces in perfect height. “Serious now, when is he coming?”

Yuri stares back expressionless, his soul entirely sucked out, “April twentieth. Two and a half weeks. We don’t want to see you.”

Victor claps his hands together. “ _Ah_ perfect! Both of you are coming over for dinner. What a dream this is, Yurio!”

“No one can know he’s here. We’re not making it public. It’s why we didn’t tell you.”

Victor arches a brow and ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s ridiculous who am I going to tell? What, you think I’m going to open the window here and start shouting out ‘Our Yurio is dating Otabek Altin!’?” 

“Yes.” Yuri and Yuuri both say it in unison. 

“Ridiculous. No. But you and Otabek will be coming over. We’ll be discreet, don’t worry. It’ll be a whole night the four of us! _Oh my god_. How exciting. Yuuri!“ Victor whips around and stares breathlessly at his husband, “You knew about this?”

Yuuri nods sheepishly, “yeah.”

Victor crosses to him and starts kissing his cheeks, “So secretive, Yuuri! So good at keeping secrets!”

“Okay. I’m gonna go light shit on fire and think about the way blood tastes for the next five fucking days-“ Yuri bends down to pick up his bag. 

“Wait.” Victor stands up straight, “Does Yakov know?”

“Yes” Yuuri and Yuri in unison. 

“Yakov. Yuuri. And me. We’re the only ones?”

“Yes.”

Victor gasps. “ _Oh_! This is fun.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Victor-“ Yuuri takes Victor’s wrist and looks him dead in the eyes, “This can’t get out. This isn’t just Yuuri’s career this is Otabek’s too. His family doesn’t even know yet. We have to be respectful. This has to stay between us. Only us.”

Victor relaxes and kisses his hand. “I won’t tell a soul. Good god, both of you are being ridiculous. Such unnecessary paranoia, when have I ever even blurted out a secret before-“

“Oh Victor, so many times-” , “Fucking always are you fucking serious-“ they both say it tiredly. 

Victor frowns and sits back down on the fold out chair. “Well. Perhaps what I should be asking is- what the plan is for when you will make it known, Yuri?”

Yuri’s face tenses, “Mm. We’ve talked about it. We haven’t decided on an exact time yet. But-” Yuri kicks the ground, “Probably at the end of the year.”

“During the season? Are you sure about that?”  
Yuri glares, mouth tight.  
“Because you’re going to be hounded with questions, any win you get or he gets will be entirely overshadowed-“

Yuri slides down against the wall, surrendering himself finally to the worry of it all.  
“I know.” He’s already thought about all of this a million times, spending hours feeding his dread. Yuuri and Victor soften their eyes, looking down at him. Yuri pushes through the awkwardness, “I was thinking-“ he picks at his sleeve, “we should plot appearances first.” There was a kind of relief in talking strategy with them. Whenever he brings it up with Otabek, Otabek just smiles, supporting whatever Yuri starts throwing out, saying he’s happy with whatever. 

Victor nods, his foot bouncing in thought, “Yes. Warm everyone to it first. That’s smart, Yuri.”

“It’s also hard cause- _ugh_ , okay- you really can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, got it?“ Yuri’s eyes are murderous, begging them to a vow. He knows Otabek won’t mind. He told Yuri he could tell whoever on his team he felt comfortable telling. Yuri just never thought he’d want to. 

Victor turns serious, “To the grave, Yuri. We won’t speak a word.”

“It’s even more difficult because... this next year is gonna be his last year. He’s retiring.”

Victor gasps.

Concern sweeps across Yuuri’s face, identifying the issue immediately, “They’ll say its you.” He says it in a hushed tone. 

“Who?” Victor looks to him confused. 

“Them,” Yuuri and Yuri again say in unison. 

“All of them, Victor. Press. Fans. Critics-“ Yuuri says it with a sigh, reliving it.  
Yuri nods to him.

“We could wait,” Yuri sighs, spotting a cat hair on his sweatshirt and picking it off, “Hold off until after the season. But even then-“

“Oh, those rumors will always be there. It’s all needlessly dramatic nonsense. The idea that _Otabek Altin_ , of all people, would retire his ages old successful figure skating career because of who he’s fallen in love with- it’s obscene. Do they know the man at all? Know his legacy? And do you really want to wait that long before you can experience the world with each other? I say ignore it. Shoo it away and enjoy yourselves. Both of you have earned it lord knows,” Victor shakes his head with a wave of his hand. 

“Yes, but it’s more difficult to deal with those rumors than you think, Victor-.” Yuuri’s eyes fog, “at some point, it was hard not to believe them. It was taxing. I don’t blame you Yuri. I’d be nervous about the timing of it all too.”

Yuri frowns, giving a silent thanks, “Once the season is over, he wants to... move here with- _uh_ \- with me.” Yuuri and Victor’s eyes go wide. Yuri feels a flush creeping on- half because he can’t believe those are actual words he can say and half because finally someone else gets to hear about this reality where Otabek Altin would freely want to live him. “But it’s hard to have a set date if we don’t even know when we’re okay with other people kno-“

Victor’s eyes light up again, “ _Ah_! So this trip is like a trial run of sorts! Yura! _This is_ -“ he puts a hand to his chest like it’s going to burst with love. 

“No. He’s going to move no matter what. This trip is just so we can have some actual time together. Alone.” Yuri says it defiantly, despite the fear of Otabek changing his mind about everything constantly echoing in the back of his head especially when it came to his upcoming visit. 

“Yes yes, of course,” Victor clasps Yuuri’s hand and goes serious again. “Well... Alright. In that case, with the concerns both of you voiced just now, I think the best time for you to make anything public, unfortunately, like you said, will be after. Which will not be easy. You two will only grow fonder and your lives together will become more and more cemented. And the rest of the world will be miles behind. But-“ Victor puts on a knowing smile and sprinkles it with a wink, “You’re both used to everyone struggling to catch up to you anyway. This won’t be new for either of you. Now... I _will_ say-“

Yuri knocks his head back and gives a bored sigh. Victor’s doing that thing where he just reiterates things someone else has said but with... more words. 

“I will say. I think you’re right, Yuri. On the business side of things you should be planting appearances together during the season. Off rink. Get talk started. But obviously, keep it platonic. Just friends spending time together, catching up. You know how it is. Those dinosaurs with wallets that put you on billboards need to be nudged in the right direction when it comes to any big image change like you going from what you are now to deeply in love(!) and moved in with someone. Especially with your fan base being as-“ Victor shakes his head, eyes blinking in a kind of awe, “ _Passionate_ as they are... some softening _will_ be necessary.”

Yuri slumps lower.

“ _Ah_ \- Passion isn’t made of stone, Yura. It’s malleable. And this is certainly something to be passionate about. The years long love story of you and Otabek is surely overflowing with pass-“

“Jesus, fucking Christ don’t.”

“Haven’t there already been wishful rumors surrounding the two of you? It’s been that way for years, yes?- in fact, I half worried it was one of the reasons you two pulled back so much from each other-“

Yuri leans his head into his hands. “It wasn’t-“

Victor nods, “Well I see that now, clearly you were both in love and had no idea how the other-“

“Stoooop.”

Victor beams at him, like Yuri just won first place at a spelling bee. “This really is wonderful, Yuri. He’s such a phenomenal talent. Such a beautiful soul.”

Yuri presses his face into his hands, still groaning for it to all stop. 

“- and kind. Sweet. Generous. Eloquent-“ Victor starts listing every saintly quality Yuri is already fully aware of and the only way Yuri can combat the nausea in his stomach is by remembering the way Otabek fucks him.  
_Yes_.  
How Otabek fucks him from behind, hard, losing control, low throaty moans escaping him, slamming into Yuri over and over-

“Handsome! _My god_ he’s attractive-“ Victor continues.  
Yuri remembers the the unworldly feeling when Otabek would finally give in, thrusting his hips, fucking his dick deep into the back of Yuri’s throat. The way Otabek looks with sweat beading down his face, his chest-  
It helps.  
And because Victor is literal walking anti-viagra it all evens out, so Yuri doesn’t even go hard when he remembers Otabek, Otabek’s dick, and the way Otabek uses his dick.  
Yuri picks his head up again, his face entirely relaxed. Pleasant even.  
“- _So_ talented! And successful! Such a shame he’ll be retiring. Did he say what he’ll be doing after?”

“No.”

“Well that’s fine. I’m sure he’s set for life with the deals he made. He could start coaching tomorrow if he wanted to. Drop in to give a speech here and there at some event or other-“

“Are we done?”

“Yes! Lets head over to the rink, I want to show you something I thought of the other night regarding your program from two years ago.”

“What. Why?”

“Trust me. You’ll like this. You’ll regret we didn’t put it in.”

“That doesn’t sound like I’ll like it-“ Yuri lazily pulls himself up. 

“You will! Now we can be sure to not make that same mistake again. Yuuri, you’re coming too yes?”

Yuuri nods, wrapping his scarf around his neck, sneaking a look at Yuri and giving a supportive smile.

They walk together. The three of them. Yuri’s eyes permanently rolling into the back of his head as Victor continues talking. And talking. And talking.....

...  


**=======**


	20. Part IV: 1. Arrival

* * *

**Around 2 Years Ago**

“Now can we get a little closer together-”

The photographer buries himself back behind the lens of the camera, giving a preemptive thumbs up.  
All three of them squeeze in tighter. Arms draped over shoulders and backs. It’s posed, not comfortable but not uncomfortable either.  
Yuri’s body is pressing deeper into Otabek’s side and... _God help him_ \- It’s not easy. No matter how non-intimate this was, it still causes a kind of ache- somewhere. Maybe everywhere.

It wasn’t like this earlier. When Otabek was alone in his hotel room imagining tonight and planning out what he was going to do, it didn’t feel like this. He can’t seem to summon it now but the familiar confidence he always has is- nowhere to be found. Which isn’t a new symptom. It’s never there if Yuri is near.  
Instead, Otabek’s heart races, the back of his neck is slick with sweat, and his throat has gone so dry it cracks with every swallow. No one would know. Besides maybe his sister. And his father. But inside, Otabek is-

“Fantastic. Now lets lift those medals up-“

All three go to grab the medals hanging from their necks. Since Yuri is in the middle he’ll have to drop one arm to hold his.  
What a meaningless thing to feel anticipation for-

_Please Yuri-_

Without pause, Yuri removes his arm from Otabek’s shoulder, keeping his other over the bronze winner. Grabbing the medal with his newly freed hand, Yuri holds it up, flashing a smile.  
_That_  
Should not hurt like it does.  
It shouldn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t. But because Otabek has so little to go on, it means everything.  
Otabek blinks, bringing his medal up, shoulder now bare and untouched. The daydream he’s been carefully planning starting to fog behind his eyes. The arm Otabek has casually draped across Yuri’s back, under the bronze’s, loosens.  
But  
It could always not mean anything too.  
_It could_  
Of course it could.  
Yuri does so many of these- it could be as simple as that hand being the one he prefers. _God_ \- This is such a ridiculous thing to be analyzing- _why_ \- why does he do this-  
Despite his internal chastising Otabek does feel a morsel of hope reenter him. He plants himself back into the ground. Eyes opening clear against the flash of the camera. It’s still there. _Yes_. He still knows he can do this.

“Wonderful! Looks great! You’re free to go! Thank you and congratulations to all of you!”

They release, relaxing and untangling themselves. Yuri’s face drops immediately, returning to its perfectly carved state, mouth neutral, thoughts storming behind his eyes. Otabek holds back a cough itching from the dryness of his throat.  
Yuri seems to be on his way out. He waves to someone as he passes Otabek, then looks back in time to meet each other’s gaze.  
Otabek holds it, paused in place.

_Yuri is beautiful_

Yuri looks like moonlight reflecting back from a clear lake.  
He has blue green eyes that pierce like daggers into flesh, into soul, into any self security. Eyes that refuse to blink or stand down for anyone or anything.  
Yuri’s body looks like a painting that never quite dries. The way light meets his skin- like a layer of glass molded perfectly over him- providing another barrier between him and everyone else. An anatomical reminder he is not meant to be touched or gotten too close to.  
Yuri’s mouth-  
Is an obsession. Otabek’s only known addiction. _It_ -

Yuri gives a polite smile and Otabek responds with a nod, Yuri continues on, making his way out.

_Now_  
Otabek’s tongue presses into the roof of his mouth.  
Right now  
This is the part  
The part he felt so sure of hours ago-  
Every step planned in his head-  
Repeated to himself over and over-

Otabek is going to walk with him, maybe keep himself a few paces back. Then once they were away from the others, Otabek will say his name- 

‘Yuri’

Yuri will look back and stop, turning to him.

Their eyes will lock. And without taking a breath Otabek will brace his heart and let the words that have been building inside finally fall-

‘ _I_ \- I know we haven’t spoken much in awhile, Yuri, but- _I_ \- There’s a place on the corner. Across the street. I wanted to know if- if you would like to have dinner with me there?’

And if Yuri stared back confused, eyes searching, Otabek would clarify-  
‘As a date. I _uhm_ \- I would like to take you there as a date, Yuri. I would like to very much.’

Otabek would never pretend to know what Yuri’s reaction would be to anything. It’s one of his favorite parts of Yuri. But for this he imagines it could possibly be a smirk. Yuri would smirk, cross his arms and then shrug-  
‘Sure’ he’d say.  
And that would be more than enough.

But Otabek also sees a version of Yuri’s answer so clear in his mind he has to remind himself it’s not real- That it couldn’t possibly be real-  
Maybe  
Instead of ‘Sure’-  
Yuri’s eyes would soften and go back to what they were years before  
He’d break out into a smile  
And say ‘Yes’  
He’d say ‘Yes’ like he actually wanted to. Like maybe he’s always wanted to.  
Like maybe hearing Otabek ask him to dinner brings an overwhelming relief. Because like Otabek maybe Yuri has also wanted something more. And has just been waiting.  
And then at the end of the night, after they’ve laughed all through dinner and Yuri has filled him with every possible emotion Otabek has ached from not having the last few years, they’ll walk back to the hotel and Otabek will stop, love spilling from the seams of his heart. They’ll turn to each other, and the world will go quiet. Yuri will look at him, eyes curious and maybe slightly daring. It won’t be easy. Otabek isn’t sure how he’ll keep himself standing. But slowly, Otabek will bring his hand up to hold the face that’s haunted him for so long. They’ll both stop breathing. Then, using the last ounce of courage he has, Otabek will lean in, and _finally_ \- finally kiss him.  
And it will never be the same.  
He won’t know if it’ll mean the same for Yuri as it does for him.  
But Otabek knows this is something he will never come back from. And he’s fine with that. _He just_ -  
He would just really like to kiss him.

He sees all of this like a memory. It feels so true to him. Feels it in his skin and the parts that make him. Almost like it’s already happened- there’s a part of him that feels so convinced of it, it nearly drowns out reality and the things that have led them here.

But there’s also another version.  
The one Otabek tried to silence-  
It’s the one that stains him and now keeps him frozen as he stares into Yuri’s back getting further and further away. It blares so loud it makes itself fact.

When Otabek asks Yuri if he’d like to have to dinner with him...  
Yuri’s eyes will turn cold and he’ll answer-

‘No.’

‘I’m not interested. Sorry.’

‘In what world?’

‘This should be obvious but I guess ignoring you isn’t enough. No.’

‘Dinner at some lame restaurant? Seriously? Do you know where I get invited to day in and day out?’

‘You’ve always just been like everyone else, haven’t you?’

Something thick and heavy fills Otabek’s lungs- it’s filling so high it reaches Otabek’s throat- even if he tried he’s not sure he could make any sound at all. 

Yuri’s head tips down as he rounds a corner and disappears.  
_No_

Otabek was supposed to walk with him  
Say his name  
And ask

Walk with him  
Say his name  
And ask

Walk-  
_‘Yuri’  
‘Would you...’_

But no matter how hard he tries now, the version he imagined of Yuri saying ‘Yes’ is gone. It’s been blown away, leaving him standing in the ashes of the present. Left him staring off where Yuri rounded a corner and disappeared. Wanting nothing to do with him. Yuri’s face, his body and his mind gone. 

And Otabek really does love him still. He does. Despite this emptiness and the aching. Otabek still only wants to kiss him.  
It was delusion. It still is. Kissing Yuri isn’t something that cowards get to do.  
Which is what he is.  
Otabek is a coward.  
But at least his cowardice meant Yuri didn’t need to fall victim to these idiotic delusions. At least there’s that.

Back in his hotel room Otabek catches a glance at the restaurant across the street. His vision blurs over the people cheerfully sitting inside- anger at himself rising-  
As if Yuri would have ever wanted to sit in there with him-  
As if Yuri would want to talk to him-  
...spend his night with him.  
_It’s_ -  
He squints his eyes closed and cocks his head to the side.  
_God_. It hurts.  
It hurts in such an unimaginable way.  
He can’t keep doing this.  
He really can’t.  
He should move on.  
He should really just- try to find a way to be happy and move on.

...  


* * *

**Present**

**=======**

**Somewhere between Almaty and St. Petersburg**

...  


If six months ago Otabek looked up and saw someone’s eyes suddenly start glowing with a blinding white light while their body began to levitate off the ground, thunder and lightning flashing behind them- and they pointed a ghostly finger at Otabek’s face then prophetically proclaimed that Otabek would some day soon be on his way to stay at Yuri’s apartment for two and a half weeks, and allowed to love him as freely as he wanted...  
Otabek would have elbowed them, twisted their arm till it dislocated and knocked them clean to the ground.  
Because that kind of cruelty should not be allowed to walk freely with others.

But  
Well  
Currently Otabek is sitting on an airplane, on his way to stay at Yuri’s apartment for two and half weeks, and allowed to love him as freely as he wants...

If air travel wasn’t such a living nightmare he might question whether all of this was just a very good dream. 

The flight attendant reaches over and sets a glass of ice down on his tray, blinking him out of his daze. A can of ginger ale gets poured into it, the flight attendant smiling wide the whole time. Otabek will never understand the theatrics performed in first class. He never has. It’s a useless endeavor meant to try and make everyone forget that airplanes were obviously created for some outdated social experiment meant to test the tipping point of human madness. It’s the only explanation for them being the way they are. No amount of can pouring, forced smiles, or free movies playing on a micro screen would change the reality of having to travel inside a suffocating, cramped, uncomfortable closed off tube speeding and bumping through the air.  
Otabek also- he might not be a fan of not being in control of his own mode of transportation. Especially if it’s 38,000 feet in the sky. _Especially_ if he has no context for what the hell is causing a random act of turbulence in the first place. It’s been years of flights- Otabek still gets nauseous from his own discomfort the minute he sits down. First class or not. Nothing changes the hellscape that is an airplane cabin. 

He shifts in his seat for the upteenth time, never more comfortable than before he wasted the effort.  
_Two and a half more hours...._  
Grabbing his drink he takes a sip while pulling his phone out and navigating to the place he’s most commonly in nowadays.  
He types out a message-  
> Dinner tonight?

Thankfully, Yuri types back in less than a minute.  
| was thinking...  
| many small bags of peanuts? as old and stale as possible would be good

Otabek smiles and takes a photo of the untouched plastic packages in front of him  
> Sorry. Only pretzels and chips :(

| damn  
| just you then  
| + ur cum

Otabek tenses his jaw and blinks.  
> I still have over 2 hours, Yuri

| too long  
| flight okay? you drinking ginger ale and keeping focused on how fucking happy baba yaga will be to finally have a lap to chill in?

> It does help. Thank you

| check this out

Otabek tips his drink back, keeping his eyes glued to his phone while swallowing down more of his ginger ale. He knows what tends to follow after Yuri types those words.  
_Mm_  
Without a single change to his face Otabek taps on the newly sent image to save in his library.

> Is that from now?  
Otabek asks, looking back over it. It’s a mirror selfie. Yuri has a track jacket unzipped with nothing underneath. He looks like he’s mid-dressing into something else. His hair is pulled up and looks slightly damp, wisps plastered to his skin. But there’s a hint of control in all of it. Like his hair has been calculated to fall across his face in just the right way. And the lighting in the room is too flattering for it to be a casual bathroom or dressing room. It looks like a locker room maybe. A staged locker room.  
If Otabek wasn’t busy fighting back nausea on an airplane this photo would put him in- a problem. 

| yeah. some shooting for next adidas campaign  
| wait  
| shit  
| is ur phone even allowed to have Adidas written on it??? does it auto blur the word? did you think i wrote Nike just then?

The corner of Otabek’s mouth tugs up. He finishes off his glass then browses through his photos to attach his own recent behind the scenes outtake. This one isn’t a selfie though. It’s an official shot. One that was vetoed. Otabek’s preparing to lift himself into the air, his head is whipped to the side, his arms swung aggressively against his body, eyes narrowed. The shirt he’s wearing looks like a second skin. The shirt combined with the lighting combined with the pose happen to emphasize the muscles in his chest and his arms more than if he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. It was a wild card outtake for a reason.  
He hits send and follows it with a message-  
> Odd. Only seeing Nike on my end. Curious, does the logo on this shirt show up as a swoop for you?

| Fuck  
| You  
| is that where *you* are right now???  
| also thnx for the cool boner in these super loose pants, dick  
| also  
| you’re mine  
| everything in that photo is mine

Otabek smiles.  
> Yours  
He tips his glass back and attempts to slide a slightly melted piece of ice into his mouth- like the way Yuri does.  
Ever since he first saw and heard this mindless ice cube sliding and chewing habit of Yuri’s Otabek became fixated on it. He’s tried to mimic it ever since. But Yuri does it so effortlessly, and he only ever grabs the cube he wants. Like a game he mastered without ever trying to- which can probably be said for most things Yuri tries. And then when the actual sound of Yuri’s biting comes- It sends chills straight down Otabek’s spine. It’s cold and unflinching. It sounds like some arctic monster from a fairytale biting into the cap of a mountain. Otabek is hoping he can record Yuri doing it this trip. Even better would be recording it at multiple locations. At home. Outside. In the shower.  
He smiles imagining Yuri’s gaping face at being asked such an odd request. 

Sound is something Otabek has always had a deep personal interest in. ‘Sound’ because ‘music’, pretentious as this was, almost seems too narrow a term. Because it’s not just what’s regarded as music that he loves. It’s noise. All sounds. He loves listening. He loves sound engineering. Producing. Mixing. Composing. He loves the way his brain feels hearing something, parsing it, deciding where to put it, how to categorize it, observing the way his body reacts to it, his skin, his breathing. He’ll hear something, whether in a track or at a cafe, a sequence of notes, a pitch or tone that makes his breath catch and his eyes wide. And when he gets home after a full day of training on the rink, he’ll sit down at his desk, put on his headphones and search for it. Until he matches it perfectly and finds a home for it in his own collections and creations. And he’ll play and explore and build until his mental capacities are as exhausted as his body. He has no prospects, he might never. But for now, it keeps him busy and provides a satisfying deeply personal alternative outlet of expression outside his sport.

| i’m making dinner btw  
| to answer ur first ?

> I love you

| wow  
| you don’t even know what it is

> I don’t have to

| i’m on my way back to stir it now

> Stir?  
> Stew? Soup? Sauce? !!!?

| lol chill  
| it’s fucking good tho. you’ll like it. you’re right to love me

> I know

| has it been 2 hours yet?

Otabek frowns.  
> No :(

| i prepped the guest bed for you

> Funny

| washed the sheets and everything  
| jk jk  
| you’re not allowed to leave my bed unless it’s to do me in the shower

> That’s fine :)

| I love you

Otabek hitches a breath before answering. Seeing the words, hearing them- it still grabs somewhere and squeezes. It would be impossible for Yuri to ever fully comprehend the love Otabek feels for him and how deep a shade it is inside. And that’s okay. All he can be is relieved and marvel when the words are said back to him.  
He tips another cube in his mouth and swipes away the notifications coming in from his manager.  
> I want you  
> I’m hungry but I also want you

| oh  
| that sounds difficult  
| what will you do otabek altin?  
| fuck me against the wall or eat this amazing home cooked meal made by olympic and world’s silver medalist, yuri plisetsky?

> Both

| lol  
| now you have to

> I can do it if I angle it right. You might need to hold something

| i’ll hold everything  
| otabek  
| have you ever touched yourself on a plane?

Otabek bites down on another cube of ice, shutting it down fast.  
> No, Yuri

| :(

> Less than 2 hours

| :)  
| fine

> Yuri

| ?

> Selfie

Otabek often worries if he asks for too many selfies from Yuri. Wonders if maybe he should stop before Yuri finds it annoying.  
It’s just difficult because- it’s Yuri’s face. And Otabek likes Yuri’s face a lot. Most, if not all people do. But Otabek- Otabek really likes it. When he can’t see it he wonders what it’s doing. What expression it’s making. What Yuri’s eyes are focused on. What Yuri’s eyes are doing to his forehead.  
Yuri’s face shifts and morphs so often, Otabek loves catching up to it.  
Especially his mouth. Always his mouth. There is such a specific hit of endorphins when Otabek looks at Yuri’s mouth.  
It was once a source of infuriating guilt and shame. He hated himself for it. Now he lets it consume him like a fire burning at his heart. Yuri’s mouth is shaped pure and untouched yet moves without constriction, without hesitation, moves relaxed and welcomes distortion. His lips are a near constant light dusted pink that vary in degrees of flushed depending how swollen they are or what the current temperature is. When he wets them with his tongue, Otabek sinks. When he scowls, Otabek sinks. When he smiles, Otabek sinks. It’s an uncontrollable reflex that Otabek never had any say in or was given a strategy to defend himself against. It prompts a reflex that occurs strictly in the space between his legs. He’ll twitch from a smirk, a sigh, a frown. And all Otabek can do is not let the blood surging to his groin come from anything else.

Within a minute Yuri sends a photo of himself. His face is lightened by daylight pouring from the window next to him, his hair up in the same bun from the shoot earlier, a wooden spoon tipped to his forehead, his eyes softly considering the camera in front of him, and the left corner of his lips turned up in a barely there smile. 

Photos of Yuri also have a special appeal simply because of how relaxed Yuri seems to be in front of a camera. No matter what he’s doing or how controlled he needs to be. It’s never stiff or awkward. It’s effortless for him. But maybe it’s so effortless because he is so beautiful.  
Especially like this.  
Standing in his kitchen. His hair up. Eyes soft.  
The domesticity isn’t the reason Otabek’s chest swells so much looking at it.  
It’s the exclusivity. Yuri Plisetsky looks back at him and it radiates with intimacy. No one else gets this. Otabek swallows down a disbelieving breath, holding an ice cube in his mouth and letting it melt on his tongue.

> You’re beautiful  
He knows he says it and types it so often there’s a chance it could become watered down on the receiving end. But he hopes it won’t. It never will for him. It only grows. 

| make the plane go faster i wanna smother you

...  


...  


“Hey!” 

Yuri’s voice rings from the intercom. Otabek rolls his suitcase to his side, smiling against the cold air. “Hey.”  
The door buzzes and he lets himself in.  
He selects the top floor in the elevator, a thundering pounding in his heart. Every other beat missing.  
Yuri has already given him a whole tour of the apartment during a virtual call they had. He did it when Otabek voiced concern for Yuri having to share his space for the first time with someone. The tour was to prove how ridiculous the idea of ‘needing space’ would be. Yuri’s apartment was predictably bigger than most. All open space, no walls or doors save for the master bathroom and a couple closets. A lot like Otabek’s but had a downstairs that was just as large with a separate bedroom and bathroom.  
The floor to ceiling windows on either end particularly stood out over the mobile camera.

The elevator dings, opening to reveal a small dark metal entryway with a door that seems to be asking to be left alone. The whole building has that feel. Pristinely clean and closed off. Hardly any windows from the outside. And strangely quiet. He empathizes.  
Otabek walks over, and lifts his hand to knock- he stops when he realizes the door is already slightly ajar. He pushes it open and steps inside.  
His eyes widen, taking it in.  
It’s a nice space.  
Open but divided into clear sections. The living area on one end with stairs leading down, ‘bedroom’ on the other end. The kitchen sits in the middle. The windows are- the windows are stunning, looking out over the water. 

Yuri’s sitting on the kitchen island, perched and smiling wide at him. Legs swinging. Potya sitting on the counter at his side.  
“Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles back, his fingers grip harder into the handle of his suitcase and the strap of his bag still slung over his shoulder. 

A big brown tabby saunters over to him, Otabek releases his suitcase to squat down. He holds his hand out, “Baba Yaga-“ Otabek coos it low, scratching her head.

“She won’t leave you alone now.”

Otabek looks up at him, fingers still scratching the underside of her chin, “I don’t mind. It’ll be nice to have a friend.”

“Mm.” Yuri’s eyes dance over him before he pushes off the counter and walks over.  
Otabek swallows and rises back up, hand back to gripping at the strap of his bag.  
Yuri stops in front of him, pausing. Like he’s trying to wrap his mind around it. Or maybe he’s memorizing it. Or-  
Yuri wraps his arms around him, resting his head over Otabek’s shoulder and holding him close. 

Otabek closes his eyes and holds Yuri in with his free arm.  
There is always such relief like this. 

“You’re here.” Yuri mutters it like there was a chance he wouldn’t be.

Otabek leans into his head. “Mm. Is the guest bedroom ready?”

Yuri laughs, pulling back. “Yeah. Even cleared out the wardrobe for you.”

Otabek wants to kiss him. But he knows if he kisses him he won’t be able to stop. And he is so painfully hungry. _Ah_ \- the apartment smells incredible. It might be the best food he’s ever tasted and he hasn’t even tasted it yet. 

“Hungry?” Yuri catches him looking over to the kitchen, a knowing smirk on his lips.  
His lips-  
Otabek holds Yuri’s face and leans in, kissing him. Yuri makes a small surprised sound then melts- wrapping his arms tighter and opening his mouth.  
Their tongues meet, and Otabek angles his head, squeezing his eyes more shut, the brink of letting Yuri’s mouth consume him until they have no point but to finish approaching fast.  
A need to feel him grows-  
Yuri’s fingers are already pushing past Otabek’s jacket and crawling up his shirt.  
When he meets skin Yuri sighs into Otabek’s mouth. “I want to feel you-“

The words Otabek felt, leaving Yuri’s lips... it wasn’t uncommon. It always pushes him further. Otabek rumbles a low growl then licks Yuri’s bottom lip and then inside, slowly letting his bag slide off and setting it down, never parting their mouths.  
With his hand now freed he brings Yuri in by the curve of his back, kneading his tongue harder against his. Yuri whines and angles more, wanting more, his hands clawing into hips and bringing Otabek in more- always always wanting more-  
_God_  
Otabek sucks in a breath then grips into his waist, steering him back towards the kitchen. Where he first saw him. Yuri lets him. Yuri always lets him. It doesn’t make sense.  
It’s Yuri  
Yuri grips into him and begs him to lead. If Otabek thinks about it and tries to make sense of it he might never come out- There isn’t any. 

When Yuri’s lower back meets the edge of the kitchen island he makes a small yelp and grins, biting into Otabek’s bottom lip.  
Otabek makes a pained groan and cradles his face, blood racing under his skin, making everything blur. 

“Yuri-” he murmurs, pausing, breathing heavy over his mouth. 

Yuri looks at him, that glint shining through. Yuri wants him. He wants to be filled by him. He wants Otabek to move in him. To touch him. To make him fall apart...  
This is what Yuri looks like when he wants him. It shakes everything inside. Otabek is powerless to it. He wonders if Yuri knows. 

“The foods ready-“ Yuri grins, his finger brushing the hairs at the nape of Otabek’s neck. “If you wanted to eat-“ he motions his head over.  
Neither one move. 

Otabek stares transfixed on his face. Eyes sweeping over it.

“I even set bowls out-“ Yuri leans in again, lightly kissing his top lip. “You must be so hungry, Otabek-“ it comes out as a husky breath, heating the skin it touches. Otabek swallows, eyes lingering on his mouth. Yuri smirks, “We should stop- so you can eat first-“

It does something  
Otabek snaps back, gripping into Yuri’s waist and twisting him around then pressing into his back so Yuri braces his arms against the island.  
“Fuck, what-“  
Otabek’s mouth pulls tight into a perfectly straight line, eyes narrowed on Yuri’s back. Quickly he throws his jacket off and goes down on his knees.  
Yuri looks back at him, eyes wide and flashing bright. “Are you fucking serious right no-“  
Otabek’s face doesn’t change, he gives one more glance to Yuri then simply grips at the waistband of Yuri’s pants and pulls them straight down.  
“You’re fucking serious right now-“ Yuri’s head dips down to the counter.  
The second Otabek’s hands grasp into Yuri’s ass, he loses himself wholly. He kisses one cheek then lets his teeth sink in, Yuri flinches and makes a pleased sound, his hips rolling closer to Otabek’s face. Gripping deep into the flesh of his ass, Otabek pushes his cheeks apart craving the view inside-  
“You’re- real- oh shit-“  
Otabek pushes his face in and kisses him, right at Yuri’s center. His tongue drips out and he licks a long stripe along both inner sides of his cheeks. Yuri lets out a whimper, leaning more against the counter. Otabek smiles to himself and pulls back. 

“Yuri-“  
He plants another kiss on the round curve of Yuri’s ass.

Yuri makes another sound, face hidden behind his arm. 

“The photo you sent earlier, when you were in the locker room- I didn’t tell you this- but-“ Otabek bites behind his lip, brows knit, “ _God_ \- It made me want to bend you over and fuck you just like this-“  
Yuri shudders a breath that turns into a whine, Otabek presses his face back in, circling his tongue over Yuri’s hole before drilling it in. 

“Oh fuck-“

With his tongue working inside and around the entrance, Otabek releases a hand from Yuri’s ass and reaches around to grip at Yuri’s cock. Yuri is hard and arching in Otabek’s fist. He hums, slicking the come already spilling from the slit and spreading it over with his strokes.  
He wants more- he needs Yuri’s legs to shake, threatening to buckle themselves to the ground.  
Otabek releases him, bringing his hand back to spit into his palm. Then buries his face back in, continuing to stroke him and twist his tongue over and over against the edge of his entrance. 

Yuri moans louder, his sounds echoing through the wide open space of his apartment. Otabek wants more. He eats into him deeper, relishing in the wet heat curving around his tongue- he drenches everything- until it drips, opening more and more- welcoming him in- melting from him.  
Swirling his tongue at the same time as he twists his wrist he hears Yuri slam a hand into the counter and shout another expletive. Otabek feeds from it, lets it soak in him and drive his need further.  
He moves faster, strokes faster. Yuri goes placid. His torso limp over the counter. 

Otabek’s tongue finds a spot that makes a guttural sound repeat itself from Yuri’s throat. He laps at it.  
Yuri pitches it higher, pressing his ass back into Otabek’s face. His cock twitches in Otabek’s stroking grip- he’s tipping over closer, losing himself more, Otabek quickens his wrist and hums, his tongue refusing to remove itself from the part inside Yuri that makes him burn bright and cry out. 

“Otabek- _oh_ \- fuck-“

Yuri’s legs start to shake.  
Otabek groans, nuzzling in more. An ever growing cry grows louder and louder from Yuri’s chest until it frees itself from his body with his come shooting long white strokes into the side of the kitchen island and down to the floor.  
Otabek could live in it forever. The feeling it brings him. His cock is hard in his own pants and he couldn’t care less. The way Yuri’s body trembles from him touching and kneading and stretching it- there will never be enough but it simultaneously satisfies him more than he’s ever been.  
Slowing his pace until Yuri is fully spent, Otabek takes a quick bite of Yuri’s ass before rising back up and smothering the back of his neck with his mouth, kissing it and rolling his tongue over the base and sinking his teeth in.  
Through his panting Yuri whimpers blindly trying to reach for Otabek’s head behind him. 

“You’re-“ Yuri pants, slumping lower and twisting around, “a good guest, Otabek. _Shit_ -“ Yuri looks down, “I look fucking stupid-“

Otabek grins kissing up the side of his neck. “It’s my fault. I got eager, I should have taken your shirt off too-“ 

“You went full on ass terminator, Jesus Christ, Otabek.” Yuri bends down and brings his pants up. “Are you- oh wow, that’s a lot of come- are you more hungry or less hungry now?” Yuri’s other hand moves down to palm against Otabek’s crotch.  
He- yeah. Otabek’s eyes roll back and he hardens his jaw to keep in a groan. 

“I’m actually starving.”

“Mm.” Yuri smiles and nods, kissing his mouth. “Fine. Eat. I’m gonna clean this gallon of my come off the floor-“

Otabek pulls him in for a hard kiss. Yuri smiles and presses against his chest. “Stop or you won’t stop. Besides, I wanna watch you eat.” He says it like he already knows what Otabek’s reaction will be.

Yuri kisses his nose then frees himself, crossing over to the bathroom. Otabek watches after him, then walks over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, soaking in the smells coming from the steaming pot next to him. He takes the two bowls sitting on the counter and fills them both to the top. “Jesus, Yuri-“ he mutters under his breath. It really- it looks heavenly. His stomach rumbles from the sight. He searches through the drawers for spoons.

“Next one.” Yuri nods to the drawer Otabek is making his way towards, bending down to clean up the floor and the side of the counter. 

Otabek grabs two spoons and sets them on the island. Yuri smiles, looking down and wiping up the white streaks of come sticking to the side of the kitchen island. 

Otabek drops the spoon he was bringing up to his mouth back into the bowl,  
“Do you need-“  
He says it while he turns to grab more paper towels but Yuri nearly throws a dirtied one at him to stop. “No! For fucks sake, Otabek! Just eat!”

Otabek frowns, but slowly goes back to his bowl, bringing the spoon up.  
Yuri hurriedly discards the mess and peers over the kitchen island, eyes locked on him, eager for his reaction.  
Otabek swallows down a hot spoonful.  
“Ooooh- wow.” He sucks in a sharp breath, trying to cool down his mouth. It doesn’t matter because he can still taste everything. His eyes are watering from the temperature but also from how good it is. “Yuri!”

Yuri breaks out into a cocky grin, eyes sparkling. With a satisfied stretch, Yuri walks around to the oven, pulling out a warm loaf of reheated bread. He holds one thick slice between his teeth and tosses another slice to Otabek before coming back around the island, pulling his own bowl to him.  
For some reason they stay standing like that. Instead of sitting on the high chairs or going to the small dining table or even the couch. Otabek is too hungry to care. Plus he enjoys watching Yuri’s mindless habit of stretching or balancing himself in some way whenever he’s idly standing. Right now he has his right foot pressed inside his left thigh. 

“What is it?” Otabek finally asks, scooping some of the soup onto the thick slice of bread.

“Hmm-“ Yuri swallows, “Solyanka. You’ve never had it? It’s more of a winter thing but- figured it’d fill you up after a shit plane ride.“ he grins, happy. “Is it working?”

Otabek shakes his head, blinking in disbelief, “Yes. This is unbelievable, Yuri. Thank you.”

He knew Yuri had a talent for cooking. His grandfather impressed it on him. It was also a common talk piece in interviews Yuri had. Without personally knowing him it may sound like it was all made up to make Yuri seem more every-day normal, but in this case it was actually true. He really did cook. But- it was far from every-day normal...  
“Yuri, you could do this- professionally, I mean.” Otabek says it sincerely. 

Yuri aggressively shakes his head “Fuck_no.“ he brings a piece of bread to his mouth, thinking with a deep frown, “Most people have shit taste, anyway.” Yuri stretches up again, twisting out his back, “No. I think the day after I retire I’ll melt into obscurity on some tropical island. Shame though because I’ll probably just end up accidentally strangling myself with one of the many silk scarves I’ll own.”

Otabek’s brows raise, “That would be tragic, Yuri.”

“Mm. I’ll leave everything to you, don’t worry. Including the scarf collection. And giant sunglasses collection. And those pants. I want to have big billowy pants that have palm trees on them, the kind that rich aunts wear.”

Otabek laughs. “Why is that so easy to picture?”

“Because it’s who I am, Otabek.” Yuri says it between spoonfuls, “I’m an old retired rich aunt. That’s what you’re so madly in love with. That’s whose ass you just ate.” Yuri spoons the rest of the soup into his mouth before letting out a satisfied sigh. 

Otabek inhales down the rest of his and pulls Yuri’s bowl over. “More?”

Yuri shakes his head no with a relaxed smile. “More?” Asking it back. 

Otabek nods, already going to ladle in another bowlful. He feels Yuri’s arms wrap around his waist and his lips kissing the back of his neck.  
Not wanting to break away from Yuri’s embrace, Otabek reaches to the side to drop Yuri’s bowl into the sink. Picking up his own second helping as he twists around so they’re facing each other, bowl and spoon in hand.  
He kisses Yuri’s mouth before eating more.  
Yuri grins, arms still hugging him at his waist. 

“You wanna sit?” Yuri asks, pushing Otabek’s hair back, still content in watching him devour the food he made. 

Otabek shakes his head, hooking his leg lightly around Yuri’s, “This is good.”

“Mm. I don’t have anything tomorrow. Or the next day. So. We can- do whatever.” Yuri looks at him, eyes clear and deepening. 

Otabek’s chest is going to split open. Possibly also the seam of his pants. “Mm.” He nods, still eating, “Good.”  
They have a lot of-  
There’s just a lot to-  
A lot to make up for.  
Even if they spent the next two and a half weeks naked in bed it still wouldn’t-  
They would need more.  
But it can start here.  
And they haven’t had an opportunity to just-  
Yeah. 

“Your jaw looks good when you eat, Otabek-“ Yuri traces a finger down the underside. “I like watching it.”

Otabek slows his chewing, watching Yuri watch him. He swallows, eyes softening. “I like it here.”

Yuri laughs. “You’ve barely been here.”

“I like it.”

Yuri holds back something, a smile spreading tight at his lips. “Mm.” He looks down. ”Oh, I gave you space downstairs- for your uh- levitation mat or whatever you call it.”

Otabek rolls his eyes but smiles appreciatively. “Thank you. And it’s yoga, Yuri. You know exactly what it is, most your stretches overlap with it. If I can say ‘fuck’ you can say ‘yoga’.”

“Yoga.” Yuri says it bored.

Otabek licks his own lips, “Fuck.”

Color seeps into Yuri’s cheeks and Otabek feels Yuri’s arms wrap tighter around his waist. “Yoga.”

“Fuck.” Otabek wasn’t sure if it was a weird version of marco polo or their own personal mating call but he liked seeing the spark in Yuri’s eyes. He drops the spoon in his bowl, his second serving already finished. 

“You could keep one here.”

“Hm?” Otabek looks at him quizzically as he sets his bowl down to wrap his arms around Yuri’s waist. 

“A _yoga_ mat.” Yuri intentionally drawls our the yoga part. “That way you don’t have to lug it around if-” there’s a self conscious pause “If you come back.” He tries to say it casually, maybe like a joke. But Otabek spots the heat in his neck. 

“I’ll leave the one I brought.” Otabek sees the smallest hint of relief rush behind Yuri’s eyes and it’s absolutely crazy to to him that Yuri would ever doubt his stake in all of this. “You should keep a bottle of lubricant in one of the drawers here.” 

Yuri’s eyes go wide, he releases him and steps back. Without looking away he tugs on the drawer that was closest to them during their earlier entanglement.  
It slides out with a full bottle of lube inside.  
“Sorry. Have we... never met?”

Otabek bites back his words, staring on, slightly speechless.

“Huh. Apparently we’ve never met-“ Yuri ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head, disappointed.

Otabek sighs, stepping up, his face asking to be forgiven, 

“I should have know-”, “Yeah, you should have known-“ 

Yuri mutters it over him, leaning in to suck on Otabek’s bottom lip, pulling it back before bringing them into a slow wet open mouthed rhythm of kissing. Yuri stops. “I dare you to find a place in this apartment that isn’t stocked and ready for you.” It’s a long term challenge. With it he walks out of Otabek’s arms to start storing the leftover food.

Otabek takes cares of the dishes at the sink. Yuri smirks when he hands over the giant pot, emptied of contents but dirtied with the food that was cooking in it all day.  
Otabek takes it without hesitation, setting it in the sink and reaching for a sponge.  
Yuri snakes his arms back around Otabek’s waist and contently watches over Otabek’s shoulder as he scrubs, kissing him here and there. Otabek can feel his eyelashes tickling the skin at his neck. There’s also the feeling of a cat flopping over his foot. 

Otabek really. Really doesn’t know how he’ll ever get back on that plane. 

“You’re good at scrubbing, Otabek.”  
Otabek smiles to himself.  
Yuri mouths over his shoulder, eyes still watching, “Do you want me to show you where the cat food is?”

Otabek holds back a laugh, “How did you know that’s what I was thinking, Yuri?” He’s circling the hand faucet around the pot. 

“Hm. What were you thinking?” Yuri asks it softly. There’s a tentativeness in it that melts Otabek from the inside out.  
Otabek turns the pot upside down on the laid out towel on the counter and holds Yuri’s arms tight at his waist. “That I could use a shower.”

Yuri takes a deep sniff at his shirt.  
“Yup.”

Otabek turns taking his hands in his and kissing them. Yuri continues, “I should too. Wow. Good thing I have _two show_ -“

Otabek grabs a handful of his ass, daring him to finish the sentence. 

“Jesus! I was just saying...“ he pauses waiting on Otabek’s reaction. Otabek gives a threatening shake of his head, Yuri doesn’t back down, “-Good thing I have TWO SHOWERS-“

Otabek stuffs a hand down the back of Yuri’s pants and grabs his ass harder, driving him across the apartment, Yuri grins giving detailed directions on how to use the downstairs shower, where the towels are, what kind of soap is in there, how the knobs work-  
“- when you slide the door open, you go left to right, not right to left because that’s the wall-“  
Otabek pushes him through into the bathroom, fake nodding like he’s listening, Yuri smiling playfully back and never stopping his mouth-  
His mouth  
Otabek makes his forever mistake and looks at Yuri’s mouth.  
Yuri catches it. Eyebrow raised.  
Yuri goes to say something but Otabek already has him standing in the giant walk in shower so when he goes to fake Yuri out with a kiss he turns the knob on the wall over Yuri’s shoulder and quickly backs out, stopping at the entrance.  
Water pours over Yuri’s head. Soaking him. His clothes. 

Yuri’s mouth drops open. 

Otabek breaks out into a half grin, unbuttoning his own pants.  
“You look so good wet, Yuri-” Otabek coos at him with a wink. Yuri glares. 

Then without any warning, Yuri shifts into something else. His shoulders relax and he takes a step back. Otabek’s fingers freeze. Yuri pulls his hair out from its bun and tips his head back against the stream, it falls smooth against the back of his head, his neck, his shoulders.  
When he pulls his head back up he smooths a hand over his scalp, his eyes piercing into Otabek’s speechless gaze, water pouring down his face, his lashes, his mouth- breathlessly he opens his mouth.  
Otabek sees the ripples of Yuri’s lean muscled torso sticking to his white shirt.  
Otabek isn’t laughing anymore.  
He swallows.  
Yuri stares at him. Daring him. Tipping his head back once more. The lines of his jaw and neck and throat exposed, water trickling down the groves.  
Yuri was too aware of what he looked like. How to move. His effect on the human brain watching him. It wasn’t exactly fair.  
Otabek feels his blood grow dark. The speeding pace of his heart beating inside his chest, spreading the darkness into every part of him. His need.  
He steps out of his pants and rips the bottom of his shirt up and off, tossing it away then walking purposefully to him, until his naked body collides into Yuri’s soaked clothed one, taking him in his arms and arching his tongue down his throat.  
Yuri moans, pulling Otabek with him towards the shower wall until Yuri’s back crashes into it, Otabek’s hands leaning on either side of him. 

Yuri smirks, “Are you gonna fuck me?”

Otabek nods, unable to speak. His dick hardening like it’s running out of time. 

“Good.” Yuri bites Otabek’s lip and reaches over the shower wall to a built in shelf. He grabs a bottle of lubricant and pushes it into Otabek’s hand.  
Otabek holds back an expletive as he watches Yuri peel his soaked clothes off. Then once freed Yuri turns around, bracing against the wall, he looks over his shoulder, eyes filled with lust, curving his back and rolling his hair to the side.  
_God_ -  
Otabek steps forward, eyes locked and silent. He runs his hands up and down Yuri’s sides before gripping at his ass.  
Patience is leaking from him. And the way Yuri turned so quickly on his own, ready, meant Yuri‘s was too.  
He squeezes the bottle into his hand, then leans over and sinks his teeth into Yuri’s shoulder. He sucks and pushes a finger in. 

Yuri clenches his teeth, a hint of frustration. “Otabek, I’m ready, seriously just do it-“

Otabek pushes another.  
Yuri leans his head into the shower wall, writhing, “ _Just_ -” his hips thrust back, “Go- more-“

Otabek slides his fingers in again, pushing against the walls he just recently drenched with his tongue. He’s still memorizing every dip, every piece, he wants to know exactly what to push on, what inch of space makes Yuri cry harder. 

“Otabek-“ 

He pushes in another.  
Otabek keeps going, resting his forehead against his shoulder, watching his fingers fuck him and losing himself to it, eyes paining as they look down. When Yuri starts to buck back Otabek curves his fingers into a beckon, pressing against the nerves that make him-

“Mmm-“ Yuri squirms, his whines echoing against the shower walls.  
Otabek pushes in another. Feeding from the sounds. Letting them boil in him.  
Yuri’s eyes close, his mouth falling open. Otabek’s dick is wet and twitching in anticipation.  
This will be the first time they haven’t used condoms. They celebrated their recent negative test results over a virtual call a couple weeks back. They’d wanted to get it done in time for this trip. Yuri had sent him surprise flowers under a pseudo name, congratulating him for _‘p in b no c time’_. The card had been a photo of a sunset.  
Otabek twists his wrist, fingers still pumping inside.

“Otabek, I’m ready. Please-“

Otabek pulls his fingers out and grabs more lube to spread over his own arching dick.  
The anticipatory feeling of Yuri enveloping him, bare, wet, and naked-  
He doesn’t expect himself to last.  
He hopes Yuri understands. 

Yuri pants back at him, smiling, eyes soft. “Don’t feel bad if you can’t last, okay?- just don’t hold back.“

_How_ \- no. Later. He’ll think about it later.  
Otabek looks down at his cock and positions it against Yuri’s entrance, he grips Yuri’s shoulder and pushes, sliding in, a deep exhale falling out between his lips. Heavenly warmth enveloping him.  
He groans long, moving slow, pausing so the walls curving around him will open more comfortably.  
His fingers trail up and down Yuri’s sides. He leans in and kisses the nape of Yuri’s neck, “Yuri-“ Yuri makes a sound, eyes still closed. Otabek presses his head against his, “I love you-“ he wishes he could sync their thoughts to prove how much he means it. Yuri relaxes, tension washing away with the stream of the shower.  
Otabek kisses his shoulder then covers one of Yuri’s hands bracing against the tiled wall. Then slowly, he begins to pump. 

Yuri lets out a sigh that sounds like he just fell into a deep fluffy cloud. It’s sweet- _god_ , it’s so sweet- Otabek groans from it, pumping harder. He looks down, mesmerized- tipping fast to his own orgasm. His hands move on their own, losing themselves to the feeling of Yuri’s wet muscled back and ass. He wont- he won’t last.  
He’s everything. Yuri is everything. And Yuri pumps back, whimpering for Otabek’s dick to hit him harder.  
Otabek braces himself more so he can fuck him deeper into the shower wall. Yuri’s back arches more and he pumps harder against Otabek’s thrusts, making the wet slaps grow louder. Otabek is transfixed by the way the water flies and falls from Yuri’s skin when he bucks into him.  
It’s pushing him fast.  
Over the edge.  
“Yuri- _I_ -“  
Without the separation there- and when Yuri feels the way he does. It’s not possible. And it’s definitely not possibly when Yuri’s ass was slick and wet and pounding back like it needed him.  
_F_ -  
Otabek reaches around and starts stroking Yuri’s cock.

Yuri’s hand balls into a fist, “Shit-“ Yuri says it sharp against his inhale, “Otabek- fuck-“ he moans, “You- you do that and- I’m not fucking kidding- I’m gon-“

Otabek slows his pace and says breathily into his ear “Come, Yuri-“ 

Yuri groans and Otabek brings his speed up fucking him deep, fucking him relentlessly, his wrist moving fast and circular.

Yuri bucks and opens his mouth wide letting out a violent shudder over Otabek’s unforgiving pace, he gasps, crying as his come overflows out of him and spills to the shower wall and floor.  
The walls enveloping Otabek’s cock clench and constrict and it’s enough to push him entirely. With one more quick aggressive thrust Otabek bites into Yuri’s shoulder and groans painfully into his skin. _Oh my god_. His come shoots freely into Yuri’s warm inviting core.  
Otabek trembles. Still pulsing inside him.  
The room fills with a bright flash of light. Breath shaking, Otabek leans his head forward and looks down as he pulls out. He holds back a sob watching his dick squeeze out, come dripping out with him.  
“Oh my god-“ he says it like it hurts. Because it’s too much. It’s so much to see. 

Yuri tiredly twists around and leans his back against the wall. Panting, exhausted and wet.  
Otabek straightens and tries to blink himself back into the present, running a hand over his own face and hair. 

“You’re still in me-“ Yuri says it, with a sleepy smile. 

Otabek nods, still trying to wrap his mind around it. 

“I’ve never-“ Yuri reminds himself and reaches behind to touch the lingering wetness, “Mm. It’s gross. I like it.”

“I’ve never- either.” Otabek steps forward to kiss him. “You feel incredible.” 

Yuri gives a pleased look and runs his hands down Otabek’s chest. 

“If you ever-“ Otabek stops. They’d lightly talked about it before but Yuri never seemed terribly interested. Maybe now that they were fully engaging without condoms, it might interest him more. Otabek never wants Yuri to feel like he couldn’t also experience it if he wanted to, especially when it feels so- “it really does feel amazing, Yuri. And I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to-“

Yuri arches a brow, “‘Wouldn’t mind’?” He repeats the words back to him. 

Otabek shuts his eyes, cheeks hot, cringing at himself, “I didn’t mean- I meant I would like it but I don’t want to make you feel like you have-“

“I know. I’d like it too.” Yuri smiles knowingly, “You know, you’re the only one I’ve _never_ fucked...“

A bolt of lightning strikes down on Otabek’s head. Otabek looks at him with fresh unfiltered shock. Maybe not lightning. Maybe more like an iron fist just hit him square in the jaw. 

Yuri laughs, amused at his reaction, “So surprised, Otabek. It’s true though. I meant it when I said I’ve only ever wanted to be fucked by you.”

That’s not the part that has him shocked. Otabek backs up suddenly, worry hitting him, “Yuri-“ his hand goes out, “when we first- had you never-“

“Oh god!” Yuri’s brows furrow, “No! Shit. No. I worded that stupidly. No. Jesus. I’ve been fucked before, obviously. Not a lot. Once or twice. Back when I was first messing around. But I never really did it again. I meant you’re the only person _I’ve_ ever _not_ fucked.” He pauses, “yet.” 

Otabek tips his head to the ceiling, thanking it in relief. He steps forward, and slumps over him. 

Yuri laughs, loosely holding onto him, “You okay? Were you about to cry and apologize for not having rose petals sprinkled on the bed the first night we did it?”

Otabek nods, sincerely, “Yes, actually.”

Yuri cradles his face, still laughing at him, water dripping down his cheeks. “Don’t. Never. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

It’s hasn’t even been one night.  
Otabek doesn’t know how he’ll manage to leave.

...  



	21. Part IV: 2. Falling into Sheets

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 1 (17 Days Left)**

...  


Yuri wakes him up by kissing his ear and asking to take him in his mouth.  
Otabek quakes, watching as Yuri’s lips slide hungrily over his cock, coaxing him over the edge. He sucks him like he might die if he doesn’t get what’s inside. Otabek looks on helplessly, gripping into the sheets.  
He comes with a full sense of surrender. It’s morning and he’s already surrendered to him. Always. Yuri can have anything. He’ll give him anything. 

Yuri kisses back up and nestles into his chest.

Otabek asks to take him next. Guiding Yuri over him, til he’s straddling Otabek’s face, breathing starting and stopping, head tipped back, his thighs flexing on either side.  
Come spills down into Otabek’s throat. He swallows. Looking up. 

They’ve wordlessly vowed not to leave the bed the rest of the day. It’s a lot of touching, kissing, stroking and sometimes pinching. 

When they get hungry they eat leftovers. Still in bed. Naked and spread out. Yuri faces him at the end of the mattress, hand over his mouth as he speaks.  
“Did you watch the one with the sharks?”

Otabek shakes his head, dipping bread into the bowl. “No. I can’t watch anything up there-“

“Mm. That’s’s crazy-“ Yuri leans back, cocking his head to the side. “I never pictured you getting all nervous before-“

Otabek grins and swallows down his food, “ _Ah_ \- Well, it’s only ever been airplanes and you that do it.”

“Me-“ Yuri echoes leaning back even more, settling on his forearms. “I’m not that scary.”

Otabek takes in another spoonful, still grinning back, “Mm.” 

Yuri quirks his lips to the side, settling in a thought, “When did I make you nervous?” 

“I mean-“ Otabek swallows, “I don’t think it was you. I wanted to kiss you and thought you wanted nothing to do with me but still couldn’t stop wanting to kiss you. I think it was me conjuring my own nervousness.” Color spreads in Yuri’s cheeks. Otabek sets his empty bowl on the nightstand then leans back on the headboard. “What makes you nervous, Yuri?”

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up, looking at nothing. “ _Uh_ \- fucking press conferences, I guess. Interviews. Probably most of the shit I hate, actually.”

Otabek furrows his brows, “Really? You think that’s all nerves?”

Yuri shrugs, “Some of it is. It feels like I’m _so close_ to saying something I shouldn’t- like- seconds from unzipping my face and revealing I’m actually a fucking squid or something.”

“ _Oh_ \- You’d be the loveliest squid, Yuri.”

“Mm.” He smiles. “I don’t know- it probably doesn’t matter. Even when I don’t unzip it, they just call me cold or some other thing anyway-“

“Cold-“ Otabek repeats it, contempt rising in his voice, “you intrigue them Yuri. You intrigue them and they want more, and when you don’t give it they get frustrated and call you cold. It’s- retaliation.” He sighs, frustration settling below his chest, “You’re not cold, Yuri. And even if you are, I can’t imagine there isn’t reason for it.” He didn’t plan to say that as bitingly as he did but- at this point it strikes something in him. Otabek could never quite pinpoint what it was that unsettled him when Yuri was written and spoken about. Especially as it was always seemingly clouded in compliments- but now since everything- it all sounds very different. Words Otabek hadn’t noticed before piece together to characterize Yuri as something he’s not. Certainly not always but it’s enough. Enough to irk him.

Yuri stares blankly at him, mouth partly open. “ _You_ -“ He blinks, “are so _fucking hot_ when you do that, Otabek- what the hell- how are you like this-“ Yuri crawls over to him, straddling his lap and looking down, holding his face. “Can you come again yet?”

Otabek grips into his wrists, breath lodged in his throat. He can’t. _But_ -  
Yuri leans in meeting their lips, back curving, his body pressing down into Otabek’s lap, a need building fast in him to stir what’s below. Otabek breathes deep, their tongues circling. Yuri is so-  
_So_ -  
Yuri moves off his mouth to his neck.  
“Will you kiss me till you can?-“ Yuri’s hand slides down between Otabek’s legs, “I want you-“ 

Otabek closes his eyes.  
Yuri can have anything.

...  


...  


It’s night.  
They still haven’t really left the bed.  
Every time one of them has gotten up for any reason the other watches on, lust filling fast behind their eyes. And because there is no schedule or place to be or competition to prepare for- they can drown in it.  
Finally drown it.  
The need grows back so quickly despite only having just released.  
It’s a day blurred by sweat and skin. All day. Even when it’s just kissing. Even when all they’re doing is talking they’ll end up turning the other on at some point. And it starts all over again.  
The release doesn’t even matter. Because the whole day is a release. A release to finally be in a bed naked and devouring the the other.  
Yuri’s hands will move over Otabek’s chest and face like they’ve never felt him before. His mouth will seek out the spots Otabek groans loudest from then latch on until the fire inside them both rages, their bodies grinding unconsciously.  
Otabek spends his time worshipping him- smothering Yuri’s body with his lips, with his tongue and with his fingertips like he’s years overdue in adoring it the way he’s always needed to. 

Now they rock.  
Otabek rocks over him. Yuri was mindlessly teething his ear while talking about a dish he had one time in Italy and Otabek started to feel himself fill again.  
They’ve been starting and stopping ever since. Yuri begging him, his voice needing for Otabek to never stop.  
To keep filling him. To keep pushing into him.  
Yuri’s hips always press up, or press back, or press down, they’ve switched positions several times since Otabek started fucking him again- it doesn’t matter the angle, Yuri always meets Otabek’s thrusts- he wants more- the sounds falling from his mouth- his words- wanting more. Always wanting more. Otabek will give him anything. Because he also wants more. It’s a cycle of need and neither wants it to end but crave to push the other and themselves into the depths of their deepest euphorias.  
They’re soaked. Constantly brushing back each other’s hair.  
Yuri looks like starlight under him. The night filters his skin and the sweat slicked over it with an ethereal glow. His body is a painting. It’s always so beautiful. It moves perfectly. 

“ _Yes_ -“ Yuri presses into Otabek’s lower back. Otabek leans down, mouth open and panting into his neck, he pumps harder- breath shaking still trying to hold himself back so they can last longer. Yuri sighs happily “ _Yes_ \- fuck- _yes_ -“ his fingers sliding up and down Otabek’s back.

“Yuri-“ 

Yuri tenses, clawing into the dip of his shoulder blades, “Otabek- come- I want you to come-“ 

Otabek lifts his head, hips moving on their own, he kisses Yuri lightly, sweat sliding down his face. “Are you sure?” 

Yuri nods, teeth sinking into Otabek’s lip and sucking it. “You’re so fucking perfect- _don’t_ \- don’t hold back- I want you- I want you to fuck me like I just told you to come-“ 

Otabek furrows his brows, trying to understand how Yuri can look like this, can say these things, can hold him inside him, and not be imagined.  
Otabek fucks him. He snaps the control and fucks him. They both cry out, Yuri gasps looking up wide eyed and mouth open- eyelids threatening to shut. 

Otabek knows he’s angled himself to slide against the part that makes Yuri go pliant. “ _Oh god_ -“ Makes Yuri slam his head back, thighs spreading as wide as they can as he falls surrendered to his overtaking climax. 

It’s just sounds. There are no more words. Their tongues don’t work. Just breaths and sounds. Yuri makes that guttural choked hitch and Otabek quickly leans in, covering Yuri’s mouth with his as Yuri cries, coming onto their stomachs. Yuri strangles out a gasp- back arching- come still pulsing from him.  
Otabek goes to move his head, his own orgasm flooding all senses and mind. Yuri grabs his face before he can move it off him, keeping it over his, their mouths open, loosely touching and covering the other. It’s rising. Building. Otabek can’t hold it back, he lets the sound escape him, falling apart, and Yuri echoes it with his own, like the sounds of Otabek’s orgasm gushing into Yuri’s mouth brings him his own new release. 

They stay. Shaking. Yuri kisses him. Kisses his chin, his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead, back to his mouth. Otabek dips his head. eyes pained, and heart swelling.  
“Yuri-“ he sighs. Yuri’s lips still kissing all the parts of his face. 

“I love you. I love you, Otabek. I love you-“ he murmurs it over and over. “I missed you,“ he pauses, and swallows. “I don’t know what it’s like to not miss you. Because I missed you for so long-“ he smiles sadly, “I think it’s why I always feel it when I’m with you. Even though you’re right here.” 

Otabek brushes back the hair sticking to Yuri’s temple, staring at him like something is cracking inside. “That’s okay. You can miss me, Yuri,” Otabek nods, “Because now I can tell you how much I miss you back.” 

...  


**=======**

**Day 3 (15 Days Left)**

...  


They’re downstairs. Morning swells through the windows showing the city waking up over the water below.  
Yuri has appointments he’s needed at today, bringing a reluctant structure back to their days. They decided on doing some light training, like they normally do when they’re not together in Yuri’s apartment for the first time. Both going to stretch at their respective areas, downstairs. Clothes on.  
It was supposed to help. The clothes were supposed to help keep them focused. But even if Yuri was wearing a theme park mascot costume Otabek is sure he still wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else- even without seeing him the movement would be too smooth- too Yuri-  
Otabek ended up doing the same stretch three times because his eyes kept straying over. And Yuri kept interrupting himself by catching Otabek and grinning, telling him to keep his eyes inside his own mat.  
On the final one Otabek sighed and turned away to look up at the ceiling, still lying on his back. He resolved to keep himself looking away the rest of the time until Yuri wordlessly made his way over and knelt between his legs, eyes hungry and hands sliding pointedly over Otabek’s thighs.  
Mornings still feel most like he’s dreaming.  
Yuri swallows him. Without a single drop falling onto Otabek’s mat.  
Otabek pushes him back and does the same. Drinking him down as Yuri shudders with a moan. Then he pulls Yuri’s shirt off afterward so he can kiss up his stomach to his chest and the part of Yuri’s shoulder Otabek’s teeth latch onto most.  
And now instead of the bed like yesterday and the day before they just end up laying down here, facing each other on the floor downstairs. 

Otabek brushes back strands of Yuri’s hair, tucking them behind his ear.  
“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

The corner of Yuri’s mouth downturns, “No. But it shouldn’t be long. It’s just a lunch then a meeting. But the meeting should be quick since whatever the hell that contract was already got figured out.“ He brings a hand to Otabek’s face, “My leg is gonna bounce like I’m in withdrawals, Yakov is gonna lose his mind- knowing you’re here- it’s gonna be fucking impossible... I’m sorry I still have shit I have to go to-” 

Otabek twists his head to kiss Yuri’s palm. “That’s fine. I’ll have my own dull phone calls to take then too.”

“Are you gonna set up your music stuff?”

Otabek nods again, eyes brightening from Yuri’s eyes brightening when he asked. “I thought I’d set up back over on the other end.”

Yuri grins, biting behind his lip. “Mm. I pictured you going there.” He scoots down, nestling his head under Otabek’s chin. “I’ll probably go to the studio again tomorrow- not the rink yet but just to- to work with Yuuri-“

“Mm.” Otabek feels a skip in his pulse, “Could I come watch?”

Yuri tilts his head up, “Is that something you’d want to do?”

 _Yes_ \- There’s nothing Otabek would feel more privileged to see. Yuri working- Yuri working on the thing Otabek could never- the thing Yuri is so natural at- “Mm.”

“Really? Why? It’s so boring, Otabek. We do the same fucking thing like a million times. And it’s Yuuri so like- sometimes we barely even talk- you want to sit there and watch that?”

There’s really nothing- absolutely nothing Otabek would like to see more. “Mm.” He kisses Yuri’s forehead, “I told you I was a fan, Yuri. Unless my being there will-“

Yuri arches a brow, with a half smirk, “Okay. Don’t flatter yourself now, Altin- you’re the one who got so bothered one day you challenged me to a fucking quad off- which- wow- the balls you have- such giant stupid balls-“

Otabek rolls his eyes and turns more over to his back. “It wasn’t a challenge-“

“Mm.” Yuri smiles to himself and pushes up to straddle over Otabek’s abdomen. “I know.” 

“You’ll be back for dinner?” Otabek stares at his hips and grips into them. 

Yuri smiles and nods. “Yeah. I’ll make something. I wanna watch your jaw eat the shit I make again.”

...  


...  


> You got a package

| you can open it, it’s probably just free shoes or something 

> Potya and Baba Yaga both rate this package 10 out of 10 stars

| lol  
| so nice of adidas to send this box for my cats to sit in

> Yes  
> Thank you, Adidas

| is that the study area? did you move the box into the study area with you?

> We are friends  
> I need their help

| omg  
| they will chew through wires, otabek, im not kidding. your shit could get ruined

> They promised they wouldn’t

| oh okay  
| no problem then  
| ...  
| !

> Look  
> Lap friend

| you kill me

> :)

...  


**=======**

**Day 4 (14 Days Left)**

...  


“Heyo-“ Yuri steps in and drops his bags over by the fold out chairs. 

“Mm- morning!” Katsuki Yuuri pivots and breaks out into a wide smile, “Otabek!” He crosses over and Otabek hurriedly pulls down his hood and holds out his hand, Yuuri takes it. “It’s so good to see you!”  
They shake, smiling cheerfully at each other. 

“Thank you for letting me watch. I promise not to be a disturbance.”

Yuri is already bent over, switching out his shoes, cheeks pink. 

“You won’t be,” Yuuri fills the space between them with overwhelming warmth, “it’ll be nice having the company. Victor sometimes watches too- but-“ Yuuri blushes and looks over at Yuri, “It’s not quite the same as having you here, I’m sure. And-“ Yuuri bows his head to emphasize his point, “You’re _always_ welcome to join us too if-“

Yuri coughs covering up a laugh.

Otabek grins tight, finding it difficult to imagine something more traumatizing than the idea of dancing in front of Katsuki Yuuri- “Thank you, Yuuri. It’s an honor to be offered that by you but I resigned myself a long time ago as being a better observer than participator for this particular talent.”

“Yuuri, Otabek can’t dance.” Yuri states it blankly. 

Yuuri looks back over at Yuri, brows raised. “Oh, I’m sure-“

“No. He can’t. Like- fuck all- he can’t.” Yuri says it seriously, eyes locked, “When Otabek dances it looks like there might be something wrong with him.” 

Yuuri stands still, slightly stunned.  
The smallest hint of a grin shadows behind Yuri’s mouth. Otabek grins for him.  
Yuuri frowns, blinking over Yuri’s words clearly thinking it’s just Yuri making a light taunt- he goes to say something and Otabek stops him. 

“No. It’s true. Yuri’s not wrong. _I_ \- I really can’t.” He says it honestly, if he wasn’t at peace with this fact at this point in his life, there’d be no hope of him ever being at peace with it. And it’s not like he can dispute it. It’s- not something that could be debated.  
Also the delight it brings Yuri might be worth all the early years of embarrassment. Especially because whenever it does come up when they’re alone Yuri always ends up smothering Otabek with overwhelming affection, like it’s something he’s uncontrollably endeared by-

“He looks like a window display mannequin being held up by a piece of string.”

Otabek bites back a laugh, staring at him over Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“When Otabek dances it’s like he’s a cardboard cutout and someone is behind him like tilting him from side to side- but without _any_ consistency- like even though it’s just titling, the titling is still _really_ confusing... it doesn’t make _any_ fucking sense- like- you’ll watch it and think, ‘why would it happen then?’- ‘why is it fast now?’ ‘Why is it getting slow all of sudden?’ ‘Is there different music playing?’ ‘Does music like that even exist?’ ‘Do I really want to know if music like that exists?’ ‘Why do I want this to stop so badly?’ So. It’s like that. You get it now, right Yuuri?”

“Yes. I think I got it. Thank you for that, Yuri.” Yuuri blinks back at Otabek and gives an encouraging smile. “Some other time then.”

“Thank you.”

...  


**=======**


	22. Part IV: 3. The Rain

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 6 (12 Days Left)**

...  


Otabek is laying on his back next to the window, eyes unfocused over the steady rain falling against the glass. He has one earbud in, listening to a ten second sequence inside a track he made on repeat, trying to pin down what trio of notes should follow it when he’s interrupted by the door slamming from the floor above.  
He checks his messages to confirm Yuri never sent him anything. _Nothing._  
Yuri had a couple meetings scheduled today, but no exact time when it would all be over.

“Yuri?” Otabek yells, his head facing the stairs.  
No answer. The faintest sound of footsteps head towards the bathroom.  
Otabek sits up, taking his earbud out and stuffing his phone in his pocket. The brief whine of the shower turning on-  
“Yuri?” He calls it again with no answer.  
Otabek climbs fast up the stairs spotting Yuri’s jacket on the bed and shoes kicked off to the side.  
Nerves are getting tangled up below his chest so he takes a moment. Unraveling the coil over his lungs. Evening his inhales- his exhales. As soon as he feels sufficiently unwrapped he presses on to the bathroom.  
The door isn’t closed.  
He gives a light knock, waiting to the side, head down. “Yuri.”  
Silence. Only the sounds of the shower head and the rain outside.  
“Yuri, I’m coming in- Stop me at any point.”  
It’s a risk. He knows it’s a risk. Inviting himself into a moment where Yuri potentially wants to be left alone could be a glaring miscalculation. But it’s a risk he takes. He’ll leave the moment Yuri tells him to. 

The fog of the steam gets heavier the further into the bathroom he gets. His eyes narrow inside the shower, where he sees the outline of Yuri, naked, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, staring out at nothing, water streaming down him.  
Otabek’s breath gets knocked right out. It’s the distinct feeling that he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. 

Carefully he steps forward, close enough now that he can make out Yuri’s face. “Yuri-“ Otabek stops at the shower entrance, his voice unable to veil his concern. 

Yuri leans his head back. His eyes are swollen. His body is slumped- deflated against the tile wall.  
“Yeah.” Yuri responds without looking directly at him. “It’s alright.” He rubs at his eyes, “I’m okay. Just a shit day is all.” He sniffs. A coat of exhaustion layered over him. Otabek wonders if Yuri is holding back because he’s here. If maybe he should leave because Yuri still hasn’t looked at him, seemingly purposefully. Almost like Otabek could be anyone. Like it wasn’t Otabek who was here in front of him.  
Yuri brings his head forward to rest it against his hands, looking down at his knees. Water trickles down his back, pooling under him, flowing down the drain. “It’s alright.” He says it again, “Really. It is. It was a shit day and this is what I do on shit days. I’ll get over it. I always get over it.”

Otabek stays standing, hands tensing and then loosening then tensing again. He feels useless. Otabek hates feeling useless.  
Maybe there’s something he can do- Prepare something- he can’t cook as well as Yuri but-

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to hold it in but his back starts to shake anyway, and Otabek doesn’t think at all. All hesitancy leaves him. Otabek strips off the few pieces of clothing he has on, and steps into the shower.  
He goes over to Yuri, lowering himself down close then guides Yuri’s tired body up and over so it’s pressed against his chest.  
And with heavy relief, Yuri lets him. The moment Yuri’s face touches Otabek’s chest Yuri falls into him, like all the parts keeping him upright slip out from underneath. It’s an assurance that Otabek pockets for himself. That turning off his head sometimes- often times when it came to Yuri, could be the best plan to take.

Otabek keeps him there. Hugging him in close, sitting with nothing but the sound of the shower and their breathing.  
The warmth of the steam soaking into his skin and the feeling of Yuri’s breathing matching his own, pulls Otabek into a welcome peace- his eyelids fall heavy.  
He leans his cheek into Yuri’s head, and kisses his hair, eyes shut.  
Yuri’s fingers twitch, then touch him like they’re not sure what to do. Like maybe Otabek still isn’t actually here. Like they’ve never felt him before. Maybe they haven’t. Not like this.

After staying there, letting the peace settle them both, Otabek stirs off his drowsiness by blinking his eyes open and stretching his arm up, straining to reach the body wash and washcloth above them without disturbing Yuri. It might not be possible- it isn’t. Yuri senses Otabek’s movements and pulls back, sitting up, looking like he’s in a daze, eyelids swollen and dragging down.  
Otabek easily grabs both the washcloth and soap. Then without saying anything, he pours the body wash into his hands, rubbing it between his palms and scoots himself in front of Yuri’s legs.  
Sliding his hands over Yuri’s right leg, Otabek massages the soap into the skin of his calve, his ankle, his foot, his knee, all the way up his thigh, kneading the muscles. Then he takes the washcloth laid over his shoulder and wets it under the stream before he starts to scrub it over the skin he’s just massaged soap into.  
Yuri’s eyes stay tired but they deepen into something. Otabek cant place it. Yuri watches. Watches Otabek’s hands. His face. Watches as Otabek repeats the same steps, massaging soap, then scrubbing it over with the washcloth on every part of him. Like he’s under a hypnosis he can’t break out of.  
Otabek only looks up at him once, consciously keeping his expression blank and fixed.  
Despite their many intimate moments, Otabek isn’t sure he’s ever felt Yuri’s body surrender quite like this before- Yuri has silently given Otabek full permission to bend his limbs and guide them any way he needs to. Like the tissue between his bones has been removed leaving them loose and free. 

Otabek nears the end, cleaning with extra sensitivity around the space between Yuri’s legs. Because that’s not what this was. He wanted to make sure Yuri knew that’s not why he was in here with him. Otabek was in here because- because why wouldn’t he? Because he was here. And Otabek wants to help wash away whatever garbage might be sticking to him. He doesn’t imagine it will fix anything but- it could bring some calmness maybe- and... a reminder for Yuri that Otabek sees it too. That whatever tragedy he feels- it’s there.

Gently, Otabek guides Yuri closer to the shower stream so he can wash his hair next.  
Bringing Yuri’s head back to soak and massage shampoo in, Otabek’s fingers work their way through his scalp then comb through the strands to rinse the suds out.  
Yuri slumps against him the second Otabek finishes, like all he wants to do is curl up and sleep right where they are, close to the hot shower stream, naked and soaked.  
Otabek gives one last kiss to the top of his head. Then he reaches over to the knobs and shuts them off. Without the water stream hitting the tiled floor the silence around them strengthens. Otabek brings both of Yuri’s hands up to his mouth and kisses them before rising and pulling Yuri up with him. 

And still, Yuri hasn’t stopped staring at him. Hasn’t stopped staring at him with the same hooded wet eyes since Otabek started washing him.  
Otabek can’t tell if he’s cried anymore or not. He doesn’t mind if he has. He’s just thankful Yuri’s breathing seems normal and his face looks more relaxed than it did.  
Maybe it did help. Maybe Otabek was able to clean some of the bad parts of the day off him. Maybe once Yuri had the energy to talk again he could tell him if it helped or not, so he knew. And if it didn’t he could try something else next time-

“Don’t move, I’ll get a towel.”  
Otabek goes to grab a fresh towel and returns wrapping it around Yuri’s shoulders, drying his head, ruffling his hair, catching a tight smile across Yuri’s face before moving down and drying his back, his arms, his legs, then wraps it back around his shoulders as he guides him out of the shower.  
Otabek swaps the towel for the robe hanging off the door. Yuri slips his arms through and watches as Otabek ties it off. Something indecipherable passes over Yuri’s eyes.  
Yuri sniffs and reaches for a clean towel to hand to Otabek. Otabek smiles and motions appreciatively towards it, “Thank you.”  
Yuri doesn’t say anything back, just nods and walks out towards the bed.

Hurriedly Otabek dries himself off and follows, grabbing a clean shirt and loose joggers and throws them on.  
Yuri is laying on his back, lost in a thought, watching the rain hitting the window over the bed, his robe loose and exposing the middle of his chest. Eyelids sinking. Otabek slides his hands into his pockets.  
“If you want to sleep, I can-“

Yuri turns to look up at him and shakes his head.  
Otabek _really_ doesn’t know what the look on Yuri’s face means. It’s not one he’s seen before.  
Otabek steps closer even though he doesn’t know why or where the incline is coming from. He leans down, still uncertain what’s telling him to- like his body is moving on it’s own. He has one knee braced against Yuri’s hip.  
Thankfully, Yuri hasn’t stopped him or shown any sign that this is wrong. So Otabek continues letting his body lead him.  
He swallows. With his arm holding him up, Otabek brings his head down and lightly kisses him, lips barely brushing against the other. Relief fills him when Yuri kisses back. And Yuri kisses like it was exactly what he wanted. Otabek sighs. _Exactly what he wanted..._

Yuri’s tongue slips into his mouth, and Otbaek’s brows furrow, surprised but without any objections and follows his lead. Moving his tongue with Yuri’s. Massaging them together.  
Otabek catches his own fingers trailing down the sliver of bare skin exposed between the openings of Yuri’s robe. It makes Yuri rake his hands through Otabek’s hair, the tips of his nails lingering against his scalp. Like he’s curdling a desire underneath the tired surface. 

Otabek hesitates, glancing down at the skin underneath his fingertips, “Yuri-“  
He still can’t read Yuri’s face like this but Otabek feels this need inside himself to...  
-keep going. Otabeks body is telling him to keep going. And nothing has ever been as right when it comes to Yuri as Otabek’s body has been.

Otabek kisses him one more time before shifting himself lower and switching his brain back off. Releasing the deep need blooming in him, letting it free and directing him to kiss all the bare pieces of Yuri below him, pushing away the robe, kissing more, licking, tasting his skin, pressing his mouth in further so he can bite, so he can suck, with no plans to ever stop, he isn’t sure when he’ll ever feel like he can. Otabek wants to drink him, to lick until Yuri’s body melts into his mouth.

Yuri’s breathing lengthens more and more. He shudders when Otabek’s mouth lingers at certain parts. His neck. Under his collarbone. His nipples. When Otabek licks a stripe up his rib cage. But it’s only when Otabek presses his lips into the smooth space below Yuri’s hip bone does Yuri let out a soft sound with his exhale.  
It’s light, Otabek’s ear barely hears it. It hides itself under the rainfall tapping against the window behind them. If vulnerability could be identified with a single sound, it would have been that one. There’s no fire. No aggression. It’s sweet, and trusting. It sounds like it’s trying to keep itself from sounding scared. Like there’s something in this that Yuri can’t see the ending for. That the fraction of it frightens him.

Otabek leans his cheek against the inside of Yuri’s thigh and kisses it like a vow.

Yuri is so many things, Otabek is reminded again. He is _so_ many things. Including this.

Yuri’s legs spread wider for him. Inviting him. Telling him it’s okay. Telling him what Otabek was doing, what he’s lost in, it’s nice. It’s so nice. And Otabek feeds from it.  
Softening his gaze over Yuri’s erect cock, Otabek leans his head in to press a single kiss at the base.  
He catches Yuri fingers grip into the sheets.  
Otabek opens his mouth and lets his tongue out to taste. The waves crashing into his chest sweep him under, and Otabek closes his eyes, losing himself to it. Yuri whimpers like it’s a secret that needs to be kept.  
Otabek kisses his cock. Kisses it. Really kisses it. Licking and kissing him. Twists his head so he can kiss more of it. Otabek parts his lips and drags his tongue over. Soaking Yuri’s shaft with the waters drenching Otabek’s mouth from his own need, ending each long stroke of his tongue with a warm open kiss. He moves to the tip and kisses it like he would Yuri’s mouth- opening and closing his lips, his tongue rolling in and out, his head angling to roll his tongue out deeper.

Yuri’s face is flushed, his lips pink and open, eyes closed shut giving himself over to the feeling.  
Otabek slows his pace to a single kiss, his eyes lingering. From the groves of Yuri’s stomach, the line up to his chest, his throat, the sharpness of his chin, to the pink blush of his lips. All of it, Otabek has to remind himself, in this moment, is his. 

Otabek takes Yuri’s cock in as far as he can until his throat tightens and he has to soothe it. Bit by bit he takes him more, until he has everything. Because Yuri is his and he needs to hold him. Just like this.  
Soaking him in his mouth. 

When Otabek sends his tongue out to wrap itself around the length he imagines that it’s blanketing him. Every time Otabek’s tongue smooths over Yuri’s cock he imagines it as a warm blanket being wrapped around him. He revels in the fluids dripping down and pooling at the base. It’s never enough, he wishes it was more.

When Otabek has him fully inside he stops moving. Keeping him in the depths of his mouth. Needing to. Otabek wants to hold him there, and fill Yuri with the lights and colors that are crashing inside and spilling out from Otabek’s own throat when he sees and hears him like this.  
But it still builds inside.  
And he can’t not need more.  
Slowly, Otabek pumps him with his mouth. Not sucking too hard. Not yet. Not going too fast. Just slowly moving up and down. Pacing it so everything falls perfectly in line with the last movement. Wanting Yuri to submerge with him more and more.  
His tongue slides under with him, hot drool and Yuri’s precome pooling in his mouth.  
Otabek moves faster, allowing his tongue to explore with his strokes, sharpening his inhales, the space in his cheeks flattening, sucking Yuri in more, creating that vacuum of pleasure for Yuri to float on.

More sounds are escaping from Yuri, sounds that now match the volume of the rain pounding against the glass. Otabek feels a pained moan push through his throat, unable to contain what he feels for him and the want he has to continue bringing Yuri this warm soothing pleasure for hours, for days, for years.

He sucks deeper, licks frantically, strokes faster, reaching and pulling out Yuri’s climax till it vibrates on his tongue, tipping into the brink.  
Yuri’s legs tremble violently then freeze. He lets out a final gasp that ends with a cry.  
Otabek sinks all the way down, welcoming the come lining his throat and his mouth with a long hum.  
Yuri shakes uncontrollably, pulsating, touching Otabek’s head with the tips of his fingers like he’s afraid he might break Otabek or himself.  
Otabek swallows. And swallows again. He swallows every drop of him. Lingering for as long as he can before Yuri became too sensitive to the feeling. 

“Otabek-“ Yuri says his name like a plea. It’s the first word Yuri has said since Otabek found him in the shower.  
Otabek pulls off, his lips pressing against the tip one more time before looking up at him.  
Yuri looks exhausted in a way Otabek has never seen him. His mouth is still, like all the muscles have drained from his face. The pout Yuri usually has when he’s tired isn’t there. Maybe because the fight he normally has inside was washed away in the shower. 

Otabek rises and hovers over him, stroking his thumb over Yuri’s cheek. Otabek kisses his temple, “Sleep, Yuri.” He murmurs it soft in the skin next to his eyelids, “I love you. Sleep.”

...  


...  


It’s 2am, Yuri is standing in front of him, half asleep and staring back confused, his robe falling loosely off his shoulder.  
“You want me to _what_?” 

Otabek smiles. He’d prophesied Yuri’s perplexed face at his request but it still paled in comparison to the real thing. By a lot.  
“I’ve always liked it when you’ve done it and no matter how hard I try I can’t ever seem to do it the way you can. The sound is different when you do it.” Otabek says it brightly, sitting in front of his laptop, the city at night as the backdrop behind them, the rain lessening but still trickling outside. 

Yuri woke up after falling asleep earlier and found Otabek downstairs working on music. Yuri happened to bring a full glass of water with him- reminding Otabek of his desire to record him. He thought maybe it’d be a good time to ask.

Yuri squints at him, “You want to record me chewing an ice cube? What kind of weirdass music are you making, Otabek?”

“The weirdest.” Otabek leans back in his chair, waiting patiently for an answer. “You’re the only one who can do it, Yuri. Believe me. I’ve tried.”

Yuri frowns, rolling his eyes then trudges back up the stairs. 

_Yes!_

Otabek hurriedly pulls up a chair next to him and checks that the microphone he brought is working. He also plugs in another set of headphones.  
He sits down when Yuri returns, the glass Yuri had now filled with ice, Yuri still looking like he’s about to step into a funhouse he never asked to go to. 

“Alright. So what the hell do I do?” He asks it tiredly. Bottom lip in a permanent sleepy pout since he woke up. 

“Sit here.” Otabek nods to the chair next to him. 

Yuri sits, pulling his knees up, and sleepily tucking his hair behind his ears. 

Otabek won’t stop grinning. “Here, put these on, so you can hear yourself.” 

“Can’t I just already hear myself? I can hear myself right now. Why do I need these?”

Otabek stays holding them out, unable to wipe the excited smile off his face. Yuri looks down critically at the giant headphones in Otabek’s grip before relenting and putting them on. His robe falls entirely off one shoulder. Otabek pulls his own headphones up over his ears and starts readying everything on his end.  
He turns on Yuri’s mic and pulls off one of his headphones, “Test the mic out. Say- anything.”

“Do you need me to lean down to it like an idiot?”  
Otabek shakes his head.  
“Good. Well- okay. What should- _uh_ \- My name is Yuri.” He wipes at his eyes, “I’m 22 years old. I’m an accountant. I have a wife and three children. Two of which I never wanted in the first place. The one is okay, I guess- but he’s addicted to internet gambling which can be fun sometimes but usually just ends up being a bummer. I enjoy golfing and a nice striped polo shirt. My favorite time of day is when I’m driving to my very normal very professional accountant job and I get to listen to my favorite morning radio show while sitting in traffic. I love morning radio shows, they make such great points- are we done? Do you need me to keep doing this?”

“No, all you had to do was say ‘test’.” Otabek laughs, shaking his head, continuing to set his computer up. 

Yuri rolls his eyes and stretches, he looks at Otabek and tries to glare but breaks out into a smile instead. Otabek knew he’d like this. 

“You want me to do it yet?”

Otabek adjusts a few more settings to get the sound right, then turns to him and nods. “Go.”

Yuri has to look away in order to go through with it seriously because his face wont stop grinning, “I can’t believe you’ve been obsessed with this for so long.” He tips the glass back and gives it a light shake, loosening a chunk of ice and having it slide effortlessly into his mouth. He lowers the glass, pushing the ice cube between his teeth for Otabek to see, he flashes a cocky half grin before biting down, chewing it till it melts down his throat. 

Otabek smiles into the back of his own hand. He really does love that sound. “Can you do it again?”

Yuri stares at him bewildered, “You’re blushing Otabek. What the fuck is this? Of course. I’ll do the whole fucking glass if you keep looking at me like that- like I’m god damned magic.” Otabek responds by taping his foot excitedly and sets up a new track. 

He nods to Yuri when it’s ready.  
And Yuri repeats it.  
Tilting ice cubes into his mouth. One at a time. One right after the other.  
Chewing them.  
Never faltering. Always catching the one he wants.  
“You want two? I can do two. Fuck I could do three. Honestly, I never realized I was so good at this.”

Otabek eyes go wide, “ _That’d_ \- yes- that’d be amazing-”

Yuri shakes his head continuing to be speechless by Otabek’s reaction but looking at him with love in his eyes all the same.  
Yuri does two.  
Three.  
Two.  
One.  
Three.  
The cup has one cube left.  
They grin at each other and Yuri cheers his glass with a wink.  
Yuri tips it back and rolls it around his mouth a bit, clearly conscious for the first time of the sound it makes hitting his teeth before he chews it into a puddle. 

Otabek stops the recording and pulls his headphones down. He sighs like he just had a lifelong dream come true. “Thank you.”

“Otabek, you washed my emotionally exhausted body in the shower, dried me off, tucked me into bed and gave me the greatest blow job of my life. I chewed ice cubes in front of a microphone for you. Yes. Obviously. You’re welcome.”

Otabek sighs and reaches out to interlace their fingers. He scoots closer and pulls Yuri’s hand to his lips to kiss his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

Yuri looks at their hands and sniffs. “Better. _I really_ \- I really don’t want you to leave. Like ever.” Yuri sulks lower in the chair. “I’ve _uh_ -.” Yuri starts doing that thing where his eyes frantically dart around the room, but never at the person he’s talking to, like he’s trying to catch the words from midair but they’re speeding too quickly and too blurred for him to make out. “ _Mm_ \- never had that. Not really.” He swallows and stares down at his knees which are still pulled up to his chest. 

Otabek nods, thinking nothing of it but understanding the meaning. He clasps Yuri’s hand in both of his. “Did something happen earlier?”

Yuri shrugs, “No. Nothing usually does. Sometimes it just happens. Today though, it was kind of a double feature. Had a meeting go over by two hours that was all about shit I just don’t wanna fucking do, events and stuff. Fan stuff. Appearance stuff. And then my mom called asking for-“ he frowns deeper, “the usual.”

Otabek doesn’t know much beyond that Yuri’s relationship with his mother had been all but non-existent until he became a household name. From what Otabek understood they still didn’t have much of one, but he knows Yuri sends her money here and there. And the amounts Yuri has shared with him really aren’t anything. Pennies. Yuri also knows it’s almost always for people other than her. Sometimes he’s even gotten thank you letters in the mail from people he’s never met who live close to where his mother does. Schools. Hospitals. Neighbors. Even when Yuri has offered more she refuses. When he’s sent her a higher amount anyway she sent it straight back.  
Otabek can only assume it’s a way to make things easier for both of them. It seems to be a mutual understanding. Otabek also suspects it might be a way for Yuri to deal with any unsubstantiated guilt he might feel regarding their relationship.  
Unsubstantiated because obviously Yuri has nothing to feel guilty about.  
His grandfather never encouraged him to support her, Yuri just did it.

“Is your family alright?”

“I mean, definitely not. They’ve never been alright. You know that. She called cause her sister needs surgery. My aunt. I dunno. I took care of it.”

It’s the deepest curve in their many differences. Their upbringing.  
Otabek knows his own was one of immense privilege. Even when there was a break in resources for a short period while growing up after his father had a falling out with his family- they had enough good local standing to pick themselves back up with little effort compared to most. Otabek’s family has always been a source of support financially and personally. He grew up with his mother and father, married, both of whom he’s always been able to talk openly with. Especially his sister. The dependency his family had on him started and ended with his own happiness.  
And Otabek has always known how exceptionally fortunate he is to have that. 

Without knowing details, Otabek is aware Yuri’s own parents were not a part of his upbringing. But it didn’t seem to matter because Yuri had plenty of support and love from his grandfather. And if anyone asked, which they do, Yuri would only ever state that he wanted for nothing growing up. Which was clear the minute anyone saw Yuri and his grandfather together. It was one of the purest familial examples of love Otabek has ever been witness to. They adored each other. Took care of each other. His grandfather looked at Yuri like he was his own personal lighthouse bringing him to shore. Otabek has even caught at random competitions over the years Yuri’s grandfather resting a hand on Yuri’s shoulder, looking into his eyes and stoically telling him how proud he was. Yuri never reacted much to it externally, but Otabek knew him well enough now to tell when his heart was filling. And quickly they’d move past it like nothing emotionally moving had occurred at all. 

So no. It wasn’t love that differentiated between their childhood homes. Both had plenty. It started and ended with the stark difference in financial privileges and bottomless resources that came with it. 

Thankfully, Otabek isn’t stupid enough to think the difference in challenges they face (and continue to, despite their own successes) in life don’t have something to do with those same unfair advantages and disadvantages that neither one had any say in. 

Otabek recognizes that when Yuri steps into these high stature rooms everyone instantly sees Yuri’s success.  
And it’d be impossible not to.  
Because Yuri is so clearly exceptional. In every possibly way.  
But Yuri isn’t daft and his memory isn’t shot. And as he’s said, he never wanted for anything growing up despite the narrative so clearly wanting to paint him as though he did. He knows these rooms he’s invited to, fussed over in, these people circling him, he knows how far away they were when he wasn’t in them. When he was growing up. When it was just him and his grandfather living and worrying about things that the people who shake his hand and congratulate him for being in the room with them now never had to.  
Just because he knew he was meant for greatness doesn’t mean he wanted the time before to be erased or regarded as something he was trying to escape. And that’s what they do to him. Otabek sees it. They try to make him like them. Try to claim him. Try to make it seem like this was always where he belonged. With them. Talking like them. Laughing like them. That he was one of them all along. 

Otabek sees it because Otabek grew up in rooms like this. They were different rooms obviously, but it was the same feel. Same self importance. Same tenor in the voices. Same clouded point of view. He sees it because the minute Yuri opens his mouth, Otabek loves him. Because it’s more honest, more expressive, more brilliant and brave than anything he’s heard in all his years of living.  
Yuri’s feelings are raw and honest and pour from him like faucet that Otabek can’t help but drink. Otabek is parched, he knows he is, and Yuri quenches him, lets Otabek dip his head and fill him with the stream pouring from his everything. When Yuri screams, Otabek stills, unable to look or tear his ears away. When Yuri cries Otabek feels the weight in his chest bloom. When Yuri is irritated Otabek finds himself noting with a growing awareness he never had before. Yuri picks up on things that go invisible to most. 

So no. What Yuri alludes to as an unevenly sided relationship is far from the truth. Because Otabek is merely offering support using internal resources he’s never needed to spend in the first place. And in turn, Otabek gets the world. He gets Yuri. He gets feelings and words and beauty and honesty and expression and every possible breed of love. So much love. Yuri’s love is unbreakable. It’s loyal and burns brighter than stars. With Yuri, Otabek gets to find himself. Find words for feelings he never understood. Push back on things he knows aren’t right. Otabek was a fraction of a person before Yuri entered his life. 

Otabek knows this and he knows on some level Yuri does too. And some day they’ll be able to talk more openly about it, but for now, despite Yuri’s self-conscious maybe slightly insecure words, all they can do is recognize how easy their relationship is and always has been. And that the easiness could only be attested to some sort of underlying balance, whether or not they can fully articulate what, why, or how.  
But when the math is done, it really does all even out. Otabek actually thinks he’ll always make out with more but he’ll try to make it up. He’s happy to try and make up that difference for as long as Yuri will let him. 

Otabek kisses his hands again. “A hot shower would be nice after a day like that.” 

Yuri looks on sadly. “I was dreading you seeing that. It’s so fucking sad. I know it is. But I don’t think I’ve ever gone two weeks without a fucked day in there somewhere.”

Otabek’s brows knit, “I don’t mind, Yuri. I was more worried you wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to impose.”

Yuri picks up their hands and holds them on his knees. “Never with you.” He leans his head down on them. 

“Are you tired at all?”

Yuri peeks up at him, “Yeah. Some freak forced me to eat ice all night so he could record it and jerk off to it later.”

“Yuri. You really don’t hear it? Even when you had the headphones on?”

Yuri laughs, “No! I mean. Maybe? I don’t know. It’s weird. You’re weird, Otabek.”

They grin. 

“Lets go to bed.” Otabek says it at the same time as getting up, bringing their hands up with him.  
Yuri follows, a faint smile on his lips and yawns.

They climb into bed, both naked, Yuri against Otabek’s chest, Otabek’s arms wrapped around him like always, two cats sleeping at the end on either side of their legs.  
As sleep fades in, Otabek murmurs softly against Yuri’s head, “Yuri. I like it here.”

Yuri responds with a sad sigh, and squeezes him tight.

...  


**=======**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to post this chapter with last weeks update but got too nervous and pulled it back. Posting it now with a bit more courage.  
> Thank you!


	23. Part IV: 4. Katsudon Dinner

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 8 (10 Days Left)**

...  


“ **Here they are!** ”  
Victor swings the door all the way open with his arms outstretched, “ **Welcome!** ”

“We don’t want to be here.”

“I’m _very_ happy to be here, thank you.”  
Not even the glare Yuri shoots him could sway the bright smile on Otabek’s face.  
He is _very happy_ to be here.  
There are moments in Otabek’s life that absolutely confound him.  
This is one of those moments. Being invited to dinner at Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov’s home isn’t something anyone could ever imagine for themselves let alone him.  
His mother was going to kill him.

“Come in! Oh, you two are positively glowing, look at you-“

Yuri steps in and throws his scarf half assedly on the coat rack before stalking off and hanging out by the end of the entryway for them.

Otabek neatly hangs his jacket up and gets immediately wrapped up into a hug by Victor. Otabek hugs back but stumbles on what to say and just ends up muttering a surprised, “Thank you.”

Victor gives one more squeeze before pulling back to look him over, “Otabek, it is such a gift to have you here tonight.”

“‘ _A gift_ ’? Wow. Great start- this is gonna be fucking great-“

“It is, Yuri! Yes!”  
They make their way to the kitchen, Victor continuing, “It’s going to be marvelous!”  
Heavenly smells are wafting through the air. Otabek’s head is spinning so fast at the surreal-ness of everything he can hardly keep up.  
“We’re going to be closer at the end of this evening than we are at the beginning, I assure you-“

“You sound like you’re threatening us.“

“Hello!” Yuuri greets them cheerfully, donning an apron and tending to the pots and pans over the stove. “Happy to see you both! Otabek we’re making katsudon. I hope that’s alright.”

“Mm. More than. Smells delicious, thank you.” Otabek bends down and pets the large poodle wagging for his attention. 

Yuri drops onto the couch in the adjoining living room and props his feet on the coffee table, glowering at the TV.  
Their home is warm, lived in, it’s the picture of comfort, like a photo from a magazine his mother subscribes to that always has articles about hosting memorable seasonal parties. Nothing too messy but nothing pristine. It’s evident that Victor and Yuuri spend most of their time here. 

“Otabek, please, go have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Victor turns to the kitchen.

“ _Ah_ \- yes.“ Otabek stands upright, still rubbing Makkachin’s ears. “Thank you.” He has a feeling he’ll be overusing those words all night. 

“How’s an old fashioned sound?”

Otabek stops at the back of the couch where Yuri is sitting. “Sounds great-” He almost says ‘thank you’ again but stops himself. 

“Perfect! And don’t you fret, Yurio, I’m making you one too.”

Yuri twists around propping his chin on the back of the couch, “Can you not put crushed ice in mine?”

“Yes, of course, I made ice spheres especially.”

Yuri gives the best version of a ‘thank you’ sound he can manage and looks up at Otabek. “You wanna watch something?”

He smiles back, “Sure.” Otabek rounds the couch and sits down. It’s strange to sit next to him and not touch. It occurs to Otabek that this alone could be contributing greatly to Yuri’s irritation. 

“Otabek, how’s your trip been so far?” Victor yells it out, prepping a drink.

“Great. I like it here. I’ve always enjoyed St. Petersburg.”

“Yes, well, hopefully soon you won’t have to be so cooped up-“

Yuri makes a low growl that only Otabek can hear. 

“I don’t mind. It’s been a welcome break. And Yuri’s apartment-“

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful? I love that space. My housing agent got in touch with me when it went up for sale and I said ‘this has Yurio all over it, let me call him’. Those-“

“- _windows_.” Otabek and Victor say it at the same time. They smile wide. 

“They’re stunning aren’t they?” Victor drops two deep red cherries into each glass.

Otabek nods, “Mm. I’ve gotten used to working next to them, I’m not sure if I’ll be as productive when I get back to my own place.”

“Ah! And what sorts of things does Otabek Altin work on when he’s not at the rink, I wonder-“ Victor carries two freshly made amber drinks in hand over to the coffee table and sits himself down in the chair across from them, picking up his own glass from the end table and taking a pleased sip.

Yuri’s face gets tight, like he’s bracing himself for actual hell.

“Oh,” Otabek darts his eyes at Yuri then back at Victor, “Dull things mostly. Replying to emails and scheduling, but I also- It’s nothing serious but I like music production- composing-“

Victor gasps, eyes wide.  
“ _Of course you do_.”  
Victor half whispers it, like Otabek just confessed to being a wizard who might eventually end up saving the world. “Oh, Otabek. _Of course_ you have an interest in music. How inc-“

Yuri bangs his head back on the couch and stands up, “Yuuri, is there something I can chop up with a very sharp knife?”

“What sort music is it that you create?”

The way Victor says ‘create’ makes it sound like Otabek is already some historically acknowledged musical genius and not a dude who just fiddles around with random toys and buttons till it sounds ‘neat’.  
“ _Uh_ \- I like amb-“

“Otabek,” Viktor holds a hand out, bracing himself from his own question, “Do you sing?”

He hears Yuri blow out a laugh. Otabek smiles, “Definitely not, no.” He shakes his head. “No lyrics or anything. Just sound- instruments.”

“‘ _Sound_ ’- oh, that has such a welcoming ring to it. Did you bring any for us to listen to?”

“I didn’t. No-” Otabek takes a very large gulp of his drink finally.  
_It’s_ -  
really good.  
_God_ , that might be the best old-fashioned he’s ever had.  
“This is _really_ excellent, Victor.”

“Thank you, I know. Now, Otabek I want to know more about this. Is this something you plan on pursuing?”

“Oh my god! He doesn’t need a fucking business 101 class about music producing from an old as shit retired figure skater, Victor. Jesus _fucking_ Christ-“ Yuri yells out harshly while violently chopping up vegetables. 

Otabek smiles. “I don’t know about future prospects. But I’m enjoying it currently. I try not to have too many expectations-“

“Of course.” Victor sighs and leans back in the chair, eyes admiring him, “That’s always been such a stand out quality of yours, Otabek. You’re quite rooted. It stands out in this crowd. It’s such an even temperament you have- where does that come from I wonder... Your mother? Your father? Perhaps both?”

“ _Jesus_ -“ 

Otabek grins from Yuri’s exasperation, “Both, I’d say. Although my father has been called a day dreamer-“

“Mm.” Victor nods, like a picture is being painted behind Otabek’s head. “And like Yuri, is this your first relationship as well, Otabek?”

“OH MY GOD-“ The sound of a knife dropping to the floor echoes through the space. 

A heavy blush creeps into Otabek’s cheeks, but he doesn’t mind it. “It isn’t. But it’s the only one I should be ashamed to say I’ve ever cared about-“

The room goes quiet.  
Only the sound of the bubbling contents over the stove can be heard. Victor looks like he‘s been stunned and is seconds from turning into a puddle. Yuri’s face is frozen pink. Yuuri has his lips pressed into a tight smile eyes glued to the iron skillet he’s lightly shaking.

“ _That’s_...” Victor’s eyes are wet. The actual figure skating legend that is Victor Nikiforov, the one his mother has been swooning over for as long at Otabek can remember, _that_ Victor Nikiforov is staring at Otabek right now with wet reflective eyes from an answer Otabek just gave him. Otabek knows he didn’t say anything bad, definitely the opposite, but he certainly never would have expected this sort of response.  
“ _Wonderful_.” Victor manages to sigh out, “Oh, what a wonderful soul you are Otabek, excuse me.” Victor gets up and walks to the bathroom.

Otabek looks back over at Yuri, who is still frozen and swallowing back some sort of- something. 

“It’s alright, Otabek,” Yuuri says it while grabbing a new knife and wordlessly handing it over to Yuri, “We’re all very happy to have you here. Have you been lucky enough to have any of Yuri’s cooking yet?”

Otabek gets up and walks over to them, grateful for Yuuri’s assurance. “I have. Yes.” 

“It’s amazing isn’t it? Yuri had has us over one night and made Pelmeni and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it-“

Yuri’s cheeks might end up being pink for the rest of the night.

“Did he?” Otabek leans against the other side of the counter from Yuri, “You never told me you entertain so often, Yuri.”

Yuri looks up and glares, “I don’t. Victor just invites himself.”

“Mm.”

“Which I’ll selfishly say, I’m thankful for.” Yuuri glances over his shoulder at him, “If it’s a chance for me to eat a meal by you, Yuri, I’ll always take it.”

Yuri bites behind his lip and chops the vegetables up noticeably less harshly than before. A strand of hair has loosened itself over his face and- _he’s beautiful_. Otabek wishes he could reach out and tuck it back.

Blinking himself out of his daze, Otabek clears his throat, “Can I help at all, Yuuri? I can wash or-“ he nods towards the few discarded dishes near the sink. 

“No.” Yuuri shakes his head and reaches for something in the cabinet. “Just sit, drink, and continue being as patient as you are while Victor asks you more far-too personal questions.”

Otabek laughs lightly, “I don’t mind.”

“Mm. I noticed-“ Yuuri stirs something in a pot, “You can always tell him to mind his own business though, it won’t phase him. He’ll just move on to something else-“

“Thank you. I won’t answer anything I find uncomfortable, I promise.”  
Yuri’s cheeks burn brighter, Otabek assumes because Yuri knows that means Otabek genuinely didn’t mind calling their relationship the only relationship he’s ever cared about. Out loud. To everyone. 

“Oh! Yuuri,” Yuri snaps his head over his shoulder, “Otabek doesn’t like mushrooms-“

“Ah, I know. You told me weeks ago. I’m making his separate. Those are for us.” 

“Mm.” Yuri’s brows furrow on the mushrooms in front of him and he goes back to slicing them. _God_ , Otabek would really like to kiss him.

“Thank you.” Otabek says it to both of them but his eyes stay on Yuri. 

“Otabek says all mushrooms taste like straight up ass,” Yuri says over his shoulder.

Yuuri laughs, “That definitely sounds like something Otabek would say-“

“Ass? Don’t tell me I’ve missed out on a whole conversation devoted to ass-“ Victor comes striding in, stopping to look over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Reminds me, Otabek! Have all your relationships been with men or-“

“Holy _fucking god_ -“ Yuri spins, “What is wrong with-“

“Oooooh fine! I was only cur-“

“They have.” Otabek says it calmly, sipping more of his drink.

“Otabek fell in love with a mattress salesman when he was a kid.” Yuri says it before spinning back to the cutting board, eyes flashing mischievously down.

“Did you?” Victor’s eyebrows go up, “How fascinating. Did you know him?”

Otabek laughs. “No. Yuri’s talking about- there was a commercial I saw as a kid. And I’ve always remembered the salesman in it-“

“He still loves him.”

“Oh, how darling is that. I too had quite a large crush on someone I watched on the television when I was a child, _who_ \- Yuuri, who was that one morning newscaster, the one with the side part and always wore fun ties?”

“Victor, I grew up in Japan. We have different newscasters-“

“Ah, right. Well- It’s interesting how we know so much about ourselves at such a young age isn’t it? Yurio here, on the other hand, has always been a bit of a free spirit-“

“Fuck- no-“

“Actually, if I recall, Yurio- weren’t there photos that came out of you yeeeaars ago with some beautiful dark haired wom-“

“I will take this lemon and throw it at that stupid fucking painting of lemons you have hanging over th-“

“In fact, she kind of looked like you Ota-“

“OKAY! THIS IS FUCKING OVER NOW, GREAT- such a fucking fantastic fucking conversation- I’m gonna fucking- go drown my face in the toilet- fucking _jesus_ -“

Otabek stays planted, grinning at Victor as Yuri walks off back to the couch and collapses. It’s not that he enjoys Yuri being irritated by Victor’s company but... he enjoys Yuri’s irritation from Victor’s company. Yuri’s overall frustration by anything has always been a kind of honest artistic expression that Otabek feels lucky to be witness to and this- this was a whole night of it in the front row.  
Also, no matter how good Otabek can hope to be when it comes to responding to Yuri’s quick witted taunting, _no one_ \- _no one_ will ever come close to the sheer power of Victor and Victor’s words knowingly or unknowingly causing Yuri to crumble into a ball of internal and outward screaming.  
It’s especially entertaining because Victor only ever seems to speak from a place of great unconditional love and remains entirely unaffected by anything Yuri says or does- which, only when combined, Otabek knows, are the greatest neutralizers to Yuri of all. 

Otabek will get on his knees and beg for Yuri’s forgiveness when they’re home, “Mm. You said she looked like me?”

Victor’s eyes light up, “Yes! You _must_ see! Same eyebrows! She was a model wasn’t she Yurio? Let me get my phone. Yuuri, how could I find that photo? Do you remember what year that was? Well, I bet I can just search-”

Yuri has face planted into the throw pillows.

Victor is hurriedly typing in his phone and scrolling, eyes focused, “Ha! Here! _My god_ , look at all these publications writing about this- Yurio!” Victor calls out not looking up, “I will never get over how much people love to see you horned up- _ah_ , there-“ Victor turns his phone to Otabek. 

Otabek looks, eyebrows going up. He nods. _This_... is turning into one of his favorite nights.

“You see it, yes? It all makes so much sense. Yurio! You sweet thing. Simply trying to find a substitute for the person you were actually—“

“I don’t want to be here.” Yuri groans. 

Otabek smiles over at him. “I _uh_ \- I can’t speak for Yuri but I know I certainly tried and failed miserably every time I attempted to cover my feelings for him over the years.”

The room goes quiet again.  
Otabek can’t see Yuri’s face because he’s smashing it so deeply into the fluffy turquoise pillow at the end of the couch.  
That wet look in Victor’s eyes has returned.  
“Otabek. _Thank you_. Excuse me.”  
Victor leaves for the bathroom again.

Otabek sees Yuri release the pillow and twist up into the ceiling, eyes wide. 

“I- Did I-“ Otabek looks over at Yuuri.

“No- It’s all good things, Otabek. Please, why don’t you sit back down and- help Yuri. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Otabek walks to the couch and kneels down at the end where Yuri’s head is, still staring up at the ceiling. He peeks up to see if Yuuri is looking- he’s not. Otabek quickly reaches out to tuck Yuri’s hair back, “Sorry-“ He says it quietly. 

Yuri looks at him, “You’re killing me.”

Otabek grins, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to make him cry all fucking night if you keep that shit up.”

Otabek breaks out into a quiet laugh, “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.” Otabek gives a guilty squint, “Most of it anyway. I _was_ curious about this person who looked like me-“

“ _Shhhhhhhh_ \- stop.” Yuri squeezes his eyes shut. 

Otabek glances up to check on Yuuri and confirm Victor is still out of sight then quickly he cups Yuri’s face and leans in, kissing him. Yuri kisses back, opening his eyes when Otabek pulls away.  
Yuri’s eyes dart down, lingering down Otabek’s chest and lower...

Otabek gives him a curious look and tilts his head, brows knit.  
Yuri smirks back.  
_He can’t possibly_ -  
Yuri adjusts himself and reaches a hand out to press against Otabek’s chest. Otabek looks up fast checking the room again. Yuri’s hand slides down and Otabek curves into him, breath deepening with his eyes giving Yuri a very clear warning. Yuri’s fingers graze over his crotch- eyes dreamy-  
“ _Yuri_ -“

“Ah! Yuuri, that smells otherworldly. How are you two doing on your drinks?”

Yuri’s hand snapped back as soon as Victor made his first step out the bathroom. Otabek takes a second longer to collect himself. He’s never been as good as Yuri when it came to switching- anything. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna need like, ten fucking more of these to get through this horseshit-“ Yuri says it before downing the rest of his.

Otabek stands, and takes a large swig. _God_ \- this is a good drink. 

“Come. Bring them here. I’ll refill-“ Victor turns preparing their second glass. “What were we just talking about? I remember it was fun...”

“You were saying Yuri used to date people who looked like me.” Otabek offers it. Yuri throws his hands up, baffled and walks off. 

“Yes! _Oh_! There were so many signs, looking back on it- Yurio, when you were all hormonal and growing like a sunflower, didn’t you used to set up a tablet so you could watch videos of Otabek on repeat? You said it was to learn how to make your jumps. I don’t mean to gloat, but I had my suspicions and it seems my suspicions _were_ in fact correct-“

“IT WAS! He was the only one landing any that year!” 

“Of course, Yura, of course- Otabek, he used to prop it up by the rink edge and watch it over and over and over and over-“

“I hate this.”

“Oh, now Yurio, this all in jest. I understand completely-“ Victor slides Otabek’s freshly filled glass to him, “I too had a similar habit of watching Yuuri’s videos on repeat for ‘ _jumping technique_ ’-” he tips his own glass with a wink.

“ _Victor_ -“, “That’s fucking disgusting-“ Yuuri and Yuri overlap, both shooting Victor a look. 

“I would record and save advertisements Yuri was in.”  
Otabek has no idea how much alcohol Victor puts in his drinks but it must be a generous- _no_ , perfect- it must be a _perfect amount_ because it’s hitting Otabek in just the right way and he’s only had one. 

All three of them stare back at him. 

Otabek shrugs, “I would miss him so much at times, it felt like it was all I had.” He goes back to the memory of it and takes a sip- _oop- nope_ , not a sip- _big_ swallow of his drink. 

“Dear lord.”  
Victor is gripping into the edge of the counter, like he’ll pass out if he lets go.  
“Excu-“

“Victor, please, no, dinner is ready, we aren’t going to wait for you-“ Yuuri says it like this is a regular occurrence in their home.

Victor takes a deep breath and collects himself, then finishes off his glass. “Yes. You’re right. Good. Alright! Dinner! By the one and only Katsuki Yuuri-“

Otabek sees Yuri’s eyes are still on him. They dart down to Otabek’s drink then back up at him. 

Smiling, keeping his gaze, Otabek brings his glass up and takes another big gulp.  
It’s _really_ such a good old fashioned.  
Yuri looks at him, eyes straining, like he’s battling between the dread of the rest of the evening versus looking forward to seeing a slightly tipsy Otabek interacting inside his own personal hell.

“Christ.” Yuri shakes his head, and laughs to himself, taking a big nonchalant swig from his own glass, clearly more immune to the potency of Victor’s drink than Otabek is. 

“Mm.” Otabek echoes back. 

“Oh, lets all just sit in the living room,” Victor waves a dismissive hand at the dining room table, like he doesn’t want to see it anymore, “No need to be formal here. The chairs are comfier anyway. Anyone need another drink? I know I do.”

Yuuri smiles and shakes his head to himself, preparing bowls for all four of them. 

“Yurio? You’ve always matched me- do you need another?”

Yuri swallows the little bit left in his that only moments ago was refilled and sets it on the countertop. “Yeah.” He says it bored. Like he’s been drinking seltzer water since they got here. Unlike Otabek. Who feels... _fantastic_. Honestly. _Really fantastic_. He’s still only halfway through his second one. 

Victor starts preparing another round, mindlessly mixing liquids and stirring, “Otabek, I wanted to tell you, I saw your face on a bus the other day and it was _exhilarating_ -” 

“ _That’s_ the word you chose? A bus made you feel _exhilarated_ , Victor?” Yuri squints at him. 

“Yes! Having one’s face adorn public transportation is a very honorable feat, Yurio. It means you’re a part of the city- a part of the community- you become a part of the daily life of all those who board you, who pass you, and who wait for you to arrive. And Otabek, I must say-“ Victor fills both Yuri’s glass and his own up to the very top. “You make for a _very_ handsome bus.”

Victor slides Yuri’s drink to him and Yuri is too busy glaring with a part-way open mouth to care. 

“You’re very handsome, Otabek. You must know this. Do you have any siblings?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, why? Are you interested, Victor?” Yuri snaps his drink up and brings it to his lips. 

Yuuri turns around and gives a satisfied smile, “Let’s eat, shall we? Take a bowl. Otabek yours is on the end.”

“Yuuri! _God_ \- this looks divine. You are divine, I don’t tell you that enough-“ Victor has his arms outstretched for Yuuri to nestle himself into. Yuuri stares back adoringly but stays where he is, Victor moves to him and envelopes him anyway, “How wonderful you are, Yuuri. Always so wonderful, I love you _infinitely_ -” 

Yuri rolls his eyes then picks up a bowl and heads to the living room. 

Otabek follows after him, admiring the length of Yuri’s back up to the softs hairs at the nape of his neck. Yuri takes a seat in the armchair, the sounds of Victor and Yuuri still murmuring adoring things to each other behind them in the kitchen.  
Otabek stops in front of the chair Yuri’s sitting in and takes a seat on the floor, setting his glass on the coffee table and smiling contently at the bowl of food he has in his hands. 

“Otabek, are you sure you dont want to sit-“

Otabek tilts his head back, looking at him upside down, “Mm.” He shakes his head. “Here is good.” Then goes back to staring at his food, picking up his chopsticks and cheerfully begins to eat. 

“ _Oh my god_ -” Yuri mumbles and Otabek hears him quickly adjust behind him then plant a kiss above his ear. “You’re fucking cute, Otabek.” He whispers, and rakes Otabek’s hair back. 

Otabek chews happily and nods. “Thank you.”

Yuuri and Victor finally come settling in on the couch, dinners in hand. 

“How is it, Otabek?” Yuuri asks, peering at him with rosy cheeks. 

“Yuuri!” Otabek says it, eyes sinking downward and overwhelmed, “it’s _so good_!”

Yuuri and Yuri exchange delighted glances before going back to their own bowls. 

Victor points his chopsticks at Otabek’s face, “Otabek, has anyone ever told you what a strong jawline you have?”

“WHY!”

Otabek stills his chewing and blinks up at Victor. He nods. “Mm. They have. Yes.”

“Do your siblings have similar jawlines as well? Have I already asked that? I can’t remember. It’s such a dominating trait, I can’t imagine they wouldn’t-“ Victor is leaning his head in different angles like he’s trying to get a better look. Otabek goes to say something but Victor sits up excitedly answering himself, “Ah! Wait! Don’t tell me! You have a sister, yes? I feel like I remember seeing her at a competition or two, am I making that up Yuuri? I can’t be certain-“

“ _Ugh_ , Otabek’s sister doesn’t want to date you, Victor-“ Yuri takes a bite of food and vigorously chews it. 

“Oh, I’m not actually interested, thank you though, Yurio. I bet one year ago she would have been just your type though, yes?” Victor says delightedly with a wink. 

Otabek coughs out a laugh and brings a hand over his mouth. Based on the lack of movement and sound coming from Yuri he assumes Yuri has gone into some kind of furious shock. 

“You know,” Victor continues, fully unbothered and eating as pleasantly as he was before, “because of how little work it would have required for her to remind you of a certain someone, hm?-“

“Victor,” Yuuri is smiling despite himself with a hand at his temple, “you have to stop.”  
Otabek is also smiling.  
Victor is _obviously_ smiling.  
Yuri probably isn’t smiling.  
Otabek tips his head back to look at him.  
No. Yuri is definitely not smiling.  
Otabek continues chewing, upside down, eyes sweeping over Yuri’s face- even upside down Yuri looks like a portrait bathed in moonlight.

Yuri looks at him, resisting the urge to soften but thawing microscopically nonetheless. 

Otabek grins up at him. “My sister is gay.”  
He states it as he tips his head forward and grabs his glass to take a sip.  
They all stop their chewing.  
“So, I can’t imagine that working out favorably for anyone. Which is fortunate for me.”

Victor shakes his head in amazement, “ _Otabek_. Your family sounds enthralling- I cannot wait until we can all have dinner together.”

“God no.”

Otabek nods, scooping up the rest of his bowl into his mouth, “Mm. Thank you. I’m looking forward to that too. My mother is a huge fan of yours, Victor. She’s never going to forgive me for being here and not telling her-“

Otabek hears Yuri slap a hand over his face and groan.

“Is she?” Victor leans forward, eyes sparkling like falling glitter, “How wonderful is that!” He motions to Otabek’s phone in his pocket, “Call her up now, lets have a chat!”

“NO!”

Otabek smiles, setting his bowl down with a sigh and finishing the rest of his drink. “ _Ah_ \- not just yet. They aren’t- I haven’t told them-“

“Oh, I see. Yes. So they don’t know about our beautiful Yuri just yet. What a kick in the pants that’ll be when they do! Especially with your mother being such a fan of mine- she’ll be so delighted when she finds out we’re practically in-laws! Oh, are you sure we can’t just call them and tell them right now?”

“Ooooh my god...” Yuri slides down in the chair, legs stretching out longer next to Otabek’s side. 

“No. Thank you, though Victor.“ Otabek clumsily slides the melted piece of ice into his mouth and crunches down. He hears Yuri let out a puff of air that sounds like a held back laugh. Otabek blinks, imagining Victor Nikiforav calling his mother unexpectedly to talk about- whatever Victor felt like talking about in that moment-  
“She’ll be speechless when she finds out you offered to call her.”

“Oh, how sweet. You hear that, Yurio? You might have claimed the handsome heartbreaker of the family but I’ve managed to woo his mother without so much as a friendly conversation-“ 

“You are old and you look old.”

Yuuri sits up, “Otabek would you like another helping?” He nods to Otabek’s bowl.

“Oh-“ Otabek blinks and stutters, “I- I mean I would- but I don’t want to take more if someone else-“

Victor waves his concern off, “Please. It’s our pleasure, Otabek. It’s the least Yuuri and I can do in return for those Nike advertisements you’ve blessed us and the world with-“

“ _Unbelievable_ -”

“Since we’re on the subject, I do want to formally thank you for those advertisements, Otabek. They really are exquisite. Yuuri and I look forward to them each and every-“

“Victor!”, “I swear to god, I’m going to vomit into every oversized vase you own-”

Victor beams and clasps his hands together, “And it seems you’ll need a refill to go along with your second helping, hand it here. Yours too, Yurio-“

They both do, Yuuri and Victor walk to the kitchen, bowls and empty glasses in hand. Back to hushed mumblings and doting on one another. 

Otabek swivels around, stretching his legs out under the chair so he can face Yuri.  
Yuri stares at him, shaking his head and finally letting his lips spread to a tight smile. “If you weren’t so fucking cute when you’re half drunk we’d have a huge problem tonight, Otabek. Like, sleeping in the guest room problem.”

Otabek softens his eyes and blinks, rewinding the last five minutes, “Was I just thanked by Victor for not having a shirt on in a Nike ad?”

Yuri makes a deep frown. “Unfortunately.”

Otabek grins, lips tight, “That seems-“ his face is turning hot as he holds back laughter, “ _so wildly inappropriate_.”

“Oh! _Really_? Are you just catching on to this, Otabek? Jesus Christ.” 

Otabek pauses, reconsidering it, “Mm. I suppose he could mean for artistic reasons-“

“He doesn’t.”

“Probably not, no.” They smile at each other. 

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Well, I guess- _I_ haven’t explicitly thanked you for those ads.”

Otabek leans his arm on Yuri’s leg and rests his hand on his hand. “Mm. I’m listening.”

Yuri sighs, “Thank you, Otabek,” Otabek bows his head as an encouragement for him to continue, “for pretending to work out while shirtless for a lesser sports brand than the one I rep,” Otabek bows his head more, looking for Yuri to keep going, “and at the time, providing infinite jerk off material for my lonely as shit heartbroken dick to feel momentary relief from.”

Otabek lifts his face up, “Oh, Yuri- It got sad at the end-“ 

“Here you go, Otabek-“ Yuuri appears brandishing a filled bowl and Victor next to him holding out a filled glass. Both beaming. 

“ _Ah_ \- Thank you!” Otabek takes both, and takes an immediate swig from the glass before twisting around to lean back against the edge of the chair Yuri is sitting in. 

“Oh, look at the two of you-“ Victor floats down to the coach, red and pink hearts flying out from his eyes. Yuuri sits down next to him and blushes at the floor. “What an astonishingly good looking couple you two are- wouldn’t you agree, Yuuri-“

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit-”

“If you can’t stand me saying it, Yurio, I don’t know how you’re going to deal with the papers once they know. We were already anticipating it but now seeing you two in the flesh- my heavens- what a sight this is-“

“Thank you.”, “Still don’t give a shit.”

“Your exceptional good looks coupled with your successes- Yuuri-“ Victor turns to him, “people are going forget all about us- we’ll have to outdo them somehow-“

“If you release a se-“

“Oh! I wanted to tell you Otabek! I know we briefly spoke at Worlds but I wanted to reiterate to you, your Free Skate was extraordinary this year. Absolutely extraordinary-“

Otabek smiles wide, cheeks heating up, quickly he chews and swallows down the food he just put in his mouth, “Thank you, Victor, that means quite a lot.”

“It was positively legendary, Otabek. That will be one for the history books. You’ve always been such a talent. You certainly haven’t made things easy for Yurio over the years and it was such a triumph seeing your program this season. There was such brilliant determination in your performance- it was undeniable. Truly. You should be so proud.”

Otabek feels a warm glow spreading in his chest. “Thank you.” He takes a sip of his drink, beaming into the glass. 

“I must ask, was there a theme or something driving that determination for you?”

“Mm.” Otabek nods, “I wanted to prove I was worthy of Yuri.” He casually motions his head back to Yuri behind him, “That I could be worthy of being with him. Mostly to myself. But-“ he remembers the night fondly, “Also to everyone else.”  
He smiles down at his half eaten bowl and picks up the chopsticks again and continues eating, wholly oblivious to the sudden silence of the room. 

All three of them stare at Otabek with glazed-over faces.  
Victor’s eyes are blurring uncontrollably when he turns to Yuuri with a helpless halfway gaping mouth, “I have to-“

Yuuri nods fast, “Yes, no, _that_ \- that makes sense- go.”

Victor gives an emotional bow of his head, “I- _oh_ , excuse me.”

Otabek chews and gives him a friendly smile as he leaves. 

Yuuri looks down and stands up, wiping something underneath his glasses, “I’m- going to- start... cleaning. Excuse me-“

Otabek looks around, continuing to eat the rest of his second helping of dinner. He twists himself to look at Yuri. Yuri stares at him with round glossy eyes. All prior irritation gone. 

“Mm. You’re so beautiful Yuri.” Otabek says it like he’s looking inside a dream. “I think Victor puts more alcohol in these drinks than what’s considered normal.”

Yuri breaks out laughing, and brings a hand up to his brow. “ _Wow_ \- No shit, Alti-”  
He interrupts himself by leaning down to take Otabek’s face in his hands and kissing it, not even looking around first to see check if anyone’s watching. Otabek kisses back, setting his bowl on the ground and humming happily into his mouth. There are some things that will always confound him. Yuri kissing him in Katisuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov’s home for some reason doesn’t- it actually feels like the most natural thing that’s happened since they got here.

...  


**=======**


	24. Part IV: 5. Suits and Leftovers

**St. Petersburg  
Day 9 (9 Days Left)**

...  


There’s a maroon velvet suit.  
A deep blue navy suit with large pink and orange roses painted over it.  
And a sharply cut midnight black suit.  
All three freshly pressed hanging side by side in front of them. 

Yuri steps forward and pinches his fingers over each of the jackets’ hemlines. Analyzing the feel of the fabric and the weight. He runs a hand over the collars, his face serious, like he’s solving a physics problem over the angles of the stitches. 

Otabek has his arms crossed, eyebrow raised, small smile fixed on his lips. Yuri’s suit choices are far more varied than the ones he ever gets. If this was an event Otabek was attending his suit selection would have been black, black, and perhaps a dark navy blue.

“Do you have a favorite?” Otabek asks, interested. 

Yuri knits his brow, “Mm-“ he holds the sleeve out for the maroon velvet one. “Not really- I know this one was designed for me-“ Yuri pokes the blue floral one, “But like hell if I’m wearing that to a charity fundraiser event.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not JJ.” 

Otabek nods, “True.” 

“You like that one though?” Yuri looks over his shoulder, eyes knowing. 

“ _Ah_ \- I find it intimidating. It looks more like art than a suit. I suppose it could be both.”

“Mm.” Yuri fixes on it, “You don’t think it looks like a bedspread?”

Otabek gives a light laugh, “I don’t think of a bedspread looking at it, no.” He steps up next to Yuri so their shoulders brush against each other. 

“They like putting me in floral-“ Yuri shrugs, “Floral suits have become so overdone though. So many dull people with personalities of a fucking styrofoam cup put themselves in floral in order to trick everyone that they’re interesting.” He reaches out a hand and pets the sleeve of the maroon. “This one is good, but it’s not a dark enough shade for something like this-“ 

Otabek nods, “Black then?”

“Mm.” Yuri sighs, “That was the one I asked for. I don’t know why they still sent me these two- besides for more photo publication opportunities-“ He rolls his eyes, “Floral and velvet suits always get your photo published in shit. Can it really be a style trend anymore if it’s become a norm for the past however many god damned seasons?”

“You look good in black.”

Yuri smirks, “ _Everyone_ looks good in black.” He turns, taking a handful of Otabek’s shirt and bringing him close, “Except you. You look fucking incredible in it.” Yuri leans in and Otabek parts his lips, ready but Yuri just fakes him out to bite into his bottom lip instead. Holding it between his teeth and sucking it before releasing and sliding his tongue into Otabek’s mouth.  
Otabek _groans_ kissing him back. He pulls him in more. They haven’t yet today. They were awoken by Yuri’s phone telling him someone was dropping off suit choices early this morning for the event he was scheduled to be at tonight.  
Otabek barely had enough time to brush his teeth before sanctioning himself downstairs in case anyone lingered when dropping the garments off. 

Now that feeling like he might be in a dream has returned. The one he’s already gotten used to having every morning since he got here. With Yuri’s mouth and Yuri’s hips asking- watering- telling Otabek he wants something from him.  
Otabek pants into his mouth, letting Yuri pull his shirt off so Yuri can run his hands hungrily over Otabek’s skin. 

“I wish you were going with me tonight-“ Yuri purrs it sliding his hands down to the waistband of Otabek’s trackers. “You’d look so good-“ His eyes are hazy imagining it. Otabek throws Yuri’s shirt up and off, his mind narrowing in on the need to feel Yuri shudder and fall into pieces from him. They drink in each others bare chests, that familiar calm before the storm of their fervor, Yuri’s hands still fingering Otabek’s waistband. “I’d pull you into a bathroom with me-“

Otabek strangles on a breath, imagining fucking Yuri against the wall of a public restroom. Yuri’s cries escaping through the cracks in the locked door. Tugging off the perfectly tailored suit over him and dropping it to the ground so Otabek can pump him as deep as both their bodies demanded. Filling him. Their sounds escalating the closer they got to-  
Yuri slides his hand into Otabek’s pants and grips into his cock. “I _need this_ -“ 

“Jesus, Yuri-“ Otabek pushes him down on the bed.

They tangle themselves in the sheets.  
Yuri ends twisted on his side, legs slightly curled under him, Otabek facing the other way, face buried between cheeks. His tongue tracing over the rim of Yuri’s entrance. Soft circles that he knows make Yuri-

“ _Oh_ \- fuck-“

He keeps going, circling- softly circling and moving his head with it, nails lightly grazing over the cheeks of Yuri’s ass. Pressing in more, he laps up the skin.  
Yuri twists into himself more, head pressed into the mattress, moaning, hips grinding blindly into Otabek’s face. Otabek feels his dick twitch, leaking unto the bedspread. He ignores it, pushing in more to suck.

Yuri whimpers, “Otabek- _ye_ -“

The unwelcome sound of Yuri’s phone goes off. 

“No. Ignore it.”

Otabek can’t, kissing the skin below Yuri’s entrance over his grin.  
It keeps ringing. 

Yuri groans, Otabek can hear him reaching for it from the bedside table. Otabek lifts his head to look at him, resting his chin on the side of Yuri’s hip. Yuri’s face is flushed, a hint of perspiration at his temples. This is not a look Otabek is capable of adhering to any sort of self-discipline for.  
Not when Yuri is twisted and naked and panting from him.  
Not when Yuri is looking at him like his mouth is watering and dripping for an excuse to moan Otabek’s name out.  
Especially not when Yuri’s cock is slicking itself so generously-

Yuri swallows and runs a hand in his own hair, pushing it off his face, looking angrily at his phone, “Fuck. I have to take it-“ 

“Mm.” Otabek glances back down to Yuri’s cock, lips kissing the dip in his waist. 

Yuri slides to answer and puts it up to his ear, hand over his eyes, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah. I’m here, what?”

Otabek pushes up to grab the lube from the bedside table and pour into his hand. He sees Yuri watching him- that daring glint in his eye, staying exactly where he is. Otabek crawls to him, kissing his shoulder and spooning against his back.

“They wanted an answer by when?”

Otabek trails a finger down the crevice of Yuri’s ass and relishes in Yuri squirming himself back, biting behind his lip to keep the whimper escaping in his voice as he continues listening to the person or persons on the other end. 

Otabek starts to open him. Stretch him. Push into him and stroke inside. Yuri’s hips stay with him, rolling with him. Still answering the questions being asked of him on the other line. Otabek kisses and stays on his neck. Tongue spiraling over the skin as his fingers continue kneading him from within, causing the slit of Yuri’s cock to drip heavy with come.  
Otabek wants to _hear_ him-  
He gets harder imagining Yuri no longer being able to hold back- a moan freeing itself mid-word-  
Yuri trembles next to him, losing himself to the friction of Otabek’s fingers curling inside. He takes the phone off his ear and sloppily puts it on mute. He drops the phone to the bed. Distant voices still talking on the other end.

“Fuck me.” He orders it, reaching back to pull Otabek’s fingers out from him and up to his mouth. Otabek watches helplessly as Yuri’s lips suck over them- two and three at a time. “Fuck me.” He repeats it, bringing his lips off Otabek’s middle finger, his eyes wild from want.  
Otabek obeys, calmly pushing himself up while Yuri hurriedly unmutes himself but doesn’t bring it to his ear, “Mm. Yeah, that makes sense-“ he answers uninterestedly, looking up at Otabek, keeping himself on his side. Otabek wraps himself in more lube and straddles over Yuri’s straight leg, the other bending itself up for Otabek to enter more easily between the two. 

Trailing his fingers over Yuri’s bent thigh, Otabek positions the tip of his cock to kiss Yuri’s entrance. Yuri nods at him, biting his lip, “Can we do it the next month instead?”

Otabek enters, watching Yuri’s eyelids flutter shut and his mouth fall open and then quickly close. “ _Mm_ hmm. Ye _ah_ -“ He takes a sharp inhale, both of them sinking from the feeling of Yuri adjusting for him. Otabek holds back his need to bend down and shove his tongue deep into Yuri’s throat, holds back his hunger to be fed the sounds he knows are bubbling and popping from the base of Yuri’s mouth.  
The angle of Yuri’s glass cut body burns into Otabek’s vision- the line of his back curving into the dip of his hips. Otabek reaches back to brace himself on Yuri’s straight leg and pushes more until he’s fully in. His jaw clenches, holding in the animalistic growl vibrating in his chest. Inside, Yuri wraps tight and hot around him. It’s heaven. It is. So good it transforms the room into light.  
Yuri sinks into the bed, the feeling causing his mouth to shudder out a silent moan. 

“ _God_ , Yuri-“ Otabek whispers it in his breath. Yuri stares up at him with wet eyes, biting back the pleasure and relief soaking in his voice as the one-sided conversation continues on the phone. 

Otabek pumps his hips, noting closely the way Yuri’s body reacts to it. The muscles that tense, the ones that relax. The pattern of Yuri’s breathing. Keeping himself steady on the exact rhythm that brings Yuri all the way up to the edge-

“ _That’s_ -“ Yuri swallows, snapping his eyes closed and bringing the back of his hand to his mouth, “That works, _I’m_ -“ his mouth opens wide, “I’m okay with that.” He says it fast- like he needs to stop all sound before it breaks into something else. 

Otabek has no control.  
His hand finds Yuri’s cock, fingertips slicking over the slit and spreading the leaking come over the length with his grip. Yuri squirms into him, his hands clawing into the sheets. Otabek thrusts deep. That need he had to to hear Yuri say his name overtaking every piece of him. Needing to hear that sound- the sound from Yuri’s throat that feeds him with his thrusts. All the small surrendering sounds Yuri has no control over-  
Otabek grounds himself in an even unrelenting rhythm, matching the pumps of his hips with his sliding grip over Yuri’s cock, eyes blurring over Yuri melting under him. Yuri gasps out a breath with a held back cry meant only for him. The word ‘ _yes_ ’ floating from between his lips-

Yuri shakes, sweat beading at his forehead. Otabek strokes him, twisting his wrist, eyes narrowing on his face, _needing to_ -  
Yuri reaches for his phone and puts himself on mute.

The sounds pour from him, heavy and overflowing.  
Otabek leans in more, using every muscle in his body to drag Yuri down deeper into pleasure.  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Yuri buries his face into the bed. And moans. “ _Otabek_ -“ Moans from the wave of euphoria sweeping him under the surface. Come spills unto Otabek’s fingers and the sheets.  
“ _Keep_ -“ Yuri grinds into him, “ _Yes_ \- Keep going-“

Otabek bows his head, kissing his shoulder then braces himself on the bed and Yuri’s bent leg, pounding into him and pounding Yuri’s hips onto him harder- fucking Yuri the way that makes Otabek’s blood burn with sweat dripping down his chest-  
He shakes, still speeding his thrusts, then falls over Yuri with a low strangled cry. Otabek fills him. Soaking himself with his own come.  
His thrusts slow until they still and he sighs into Yuri’s skin. The muffled repeated sound of Yuri’s name on the other of the call breaks them out from their recovery. 

They laugh, still panting and sweating.

Otabek pulls himself out and rolls onto his back.  
Yuri breathes out from the feeling then unmutes himself and brings it up to his ear, “I’m here. Sorry. I was-“ he rolls onto his back too, still quietly catching his breath, “taking a piss.”

They turn to look at each other. There is nothing more beautiful than the way Yuri’s eyes look at him after sex. The release in Yuri’s face, layer after layer shed. Otabek leans in and kisses lightly enough that no sound can be heard. Yuri smiles into his mouth. 

“Okay. I’ll think about-“ Yuri says, not really listening. “Look, I’m going to go- I have to call Victor to coordinate tonight-“ multiple voices rush their words, trying to keep him on the line, Yuri ignores them, “Yup. Talk soon-“ he brings the phone up and taps to end the call, dropping it on the bed behind him and turning all the way over on his side, facing Otabek. 

Otabek raises his brows, “That was an option?”

Yuri smirks, “I liked it. You did too.”

“Mm,” Otabek did. “You’re getting ready at Victor and Yuuri’s?”

“Yeah.” Yuri stretches, “Otherwise the whole fucking crew has to come here. And you’d have to lock yourself in a bathroom.” He scoots in closer to rest his head on Otabek’s shoulder. “I wonder what it’ll be like-“

“Hm?”

Yuri watches his fingertips graze over Otabek’s chest, “When we go together. To these kinds of things. I wonder what it’ll be like-“

Otabek kisses his head, “Mm. Nice.” He rubs his cheek over Yuri’s hair and closes his eyes, “It’ll be nice. We’ll wonder how we ever did it alone.”

...  


...  


“Okay. Cat food is- sorry, you know where the cat food is. And you have leftovers in the fridge so-“ 

Otabek laughs, nodding “Yuri. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. We’re all going to be fine. You’re going to be late-“

Yuri hugs the garment bag closer into his chest and bites behind his lip. 

“Go-“ Otabek moves to him, wrapping his arms around him, “and then come home. We’ll be here- waiting for you.”

The door buzzer goes off again. 

“Jesus-“ Yuri shakes his head and turns back to kiss him, pressing in more and letting out a small sound that nearly cracks Otabek’a heart into a million pieces. “I’m coming straight back when it’s over. It shouldn’t be too late.”

Otabek nods, tucking Yuri’s hair behind his ear. 

Yuri nudges into his chest, “Don’t leave.”

Otabek kisses his forehead, “I won’t.”

“Oh. Wait-“ Yuri releases a hand from the garment bag to sweep his hair to the side, “Just- mark here-“

Otabek furrows his brow. He usually does everything he can to stop himself from leaving marks on Yuri, especially with how easily they show...

“ _Please_ -“ Yuri looks at him with those same needing eyes, “I want you to-”

Otabek tentatively inches in and leans down, “You’re sure?”

“Mm.”

Still hesitant but pushing through it, Otabek kisses down Yuri’s neck and stops at the base. His hand finds the curve of Yuri’s back while the other cups softly agaisnt Yuri’s head.  
He licks the skin then latches his teeth in. And sucks. This time unlike all the times before, not letting go. His tongue rolling with him. His own breath burning with every release.  
Yuri makes a whimper that ends in a sigh. His fingers rake through Otabek‘s hair and pull lightly at the back then press him in more.  
Otabek stops when the door buzzes again. He kisses the freshly reddened skin, and kisses back up Yuri’s neck to his mouth. 

“Mm. _That’s_ \- Thanks-“

Otabek shakes his head, “ _God_ \- I feel bad Yuri, it’s so red-“

Yuri stops him with another kiss, “Don’t- it’s for me. I wanted it. And don’t fuck yourself when I’m not home even though it’ll be late.” He kisses Otabek’s cheek, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Otabek nods with a tender smile and watches him walk towards the door. As if on cue, Baba Yaga flops down at his feet and looks out with him.  
“We’ll try not to invite too many people over.”

Yuri narrows on him, “Mm. Right.”

...  


...  


Otabek leans towards the coffee table, absentmindedly refreshing the page open on his laptop, continuing to scratch under Baba Yaga’s chin. The background sounds of an outdated movie playing on the tv in front of him.  
_Mm._  
The page fills with freshly taken press shots of Yuri from the charity event he was currently attending. Live updates now noting his earlier arrival.  
_Yuri looks_ -  
Otabek bites back a rare expletive.  
Yuri in a suit has always had a strange effect on him, something Otabek can’t say he’s all that familiar with. Like an itch he’s always had but could never quite reach. It has an even greater effect on him now that they were together. An even greater effect being in Yuri’s apartment. Having already fallen apart with him hours ago. Seeing him like this now- Yuri’s own cat purring happily in his lap.

He pulls his phone out, eyes having a hard time looking away from the photos on his laptop screen. 

> You look unbelievable, Yuri  
> How can you look like this?

It will probably be awhile before Yuri can answer.  
Otabek leans down, all his attention now locked on the social media page he was only going to check in on once. He smiles down at Baba Yaga and plays a video of Yuri’s arrival. It’s such a new feeling to be able to watch him and admire him like this all while- loving him. Freely loving him.

The video shows Yuri walking towards a group of fans holding out items for him to sign, camera flashing wildly, Yuri smiling graciously as fans start to shower him with accolades and ask him for photos. All of it he responds patiently and accommodating to.  
When he gets pulled back to the carpet by someone from his team, Yuri starts walking his way down the guided path to photographers, Otabek’s breath stops, taking in the straight line of Yuri’s spine up to his neck, all of it carrying the weight of his perfectly fit suit. His eyes piercing into the flashes of the cameras. Calmly letting them capture every angle of his face, almost as if they weren’t even there at all. Yuri turns his head over to someone on the side calling out something to him- whatever was said causes him to curve up into a half grin that stretches out into a smile which he turns back for the cameras to eagerly lap up. Still wholly unbothered by their impatient clicks. 

The video ends. And Otabek does one more quick scroll over the photos, amused by the ones of Yuri and Victor standing side by side. Otabek tries to zero in on any hint of irritation on Yuri’s face but stops himself when-

There. 

Otabek’s heart pauses in the middle of a beat. At the top of Yuri’s shirt collar, the smallest hint of a red mark can be seen. The same red mark he asked Otabek for. 

Otabek blinks and melts back into the coach.  
_That_ -

His phone flashes telling him Yuri replied to his messages. 

| such a fan Otabek  
| this look was achieved by your dick fucking me into oblivion this morning

Otabek smiles, rubbing Baba Yaga’s ears, pulse quickening. 

| i wish you were here  
| or i was there  
| either

Otabek takes a photo of Baba Yaga in his lap and Potya stretched out on the back of the couch behind him and sends it. 

> We do too

...  


...  


It’s late.  
The apartment is noticeably darker than before he fell asleep. The tv is still on, currently playing a sequel to the movie he had on in the background from before. Otabek awoke to the feeling of his phone vibrating on his chest.  


| finally on way home  
| im fucking starving  
| they had a ‘food’ here that had shrimp and strawberries together  
| ?!  
| fucking why

After carefully slipping Baba Yaga off his lap and onto the couch cushions, Otabek gets up and sleepily makes his way to the kitchen to turn the oven on.  
He yawns, opening the fridge to pull out leftovers. He prepares a glass dish with a dinner sized amount of food and covers it with tinfoil to place inside the oven. Potya excitedly snakes between his legs like she can sense Yuri’s on his way home and needs to share it with someone. Otabek smiles and bends down to scratch the soft fur at her head.  
They’re such friendly cats. Otabek thinks they might be the best cats. He likes carrying Baba Yaga like a baby with him from room to room the most. It’s been their daily ritual every time Yuri leaves for obligations. He likes the way Baba Yaga looks around the space, out the windows, at the furniture, at the lights, like she’s never seen any of it before.  
Otabek gives one last scratch to Potya’s head then stands back up. He leans over the kitchen island and serenely stares out the dark clouded windows. 

The faint sound of the elevator dinging makes him turn back to the door. Quietly, Yuri steps in, still beautiful in his suit. The second he sees Otabek, that heavenly relief washes over him, shoulders relax, mouth tugging into a happy sweet smile. _God_ \- Otabek melts. 

“Welcome home, Yuri.” Otabek says it low with a sleepy smile to match, stuffing his hands into his pockets, eyes admiring him. 

Yuri stretches his neck and loosens his tie until it hangs undone at his collar, “Shit- You look so tired, Otabek,” Yuri walks to him, eyes soft and caring, “Did you fall asleep? It’s early for you to fall asleep-”

Otabek nods, giving another yawn. “On the couch.” Yuri reaches an arm out to cup his face and pull it into his for a kiss. The lightest taste of champagne comes from his mouth. Otabek sighs, chest filling from the first experience of Yuri coming home after an event and kissing him just like this-

Yuri kisses his nose and his cheek. “Cute, Otabek- so fucking cute-“ he locks on the oven. “Are you just eating now?”

Otabek shakes his head, “I ate earlier. That’s yours.”

Yuri knits his brow and looks back at Otabek, “You made food for me?”

“I _reheated_ food for you.” Otabek corrects him with a half smirk. “It should be ready now, actually-“ he goes to the oven, grabbing a towel to pull the dish out and set on the island in front of Yuri. Yuri looks down like he isn’t quite sure what it is. “Plate or bowl?” Otabek asks it, sliding out a drawer to pull out a fork for him. 

Yuri shakes his head, “Neither. I’m way too fucking hungry to care. This is-“ he bites behind his lip, “Nice. Thank you.”

Otabek squints with his grin, “It isn’t much Yuri. You’re the one who made it. All I did was warm it up.” 

“Well-“ Yuri hops up onto the island next to his food, picking up the dish with a towel and sticking a fork in to eat, “It’s still nice. Thank you. You’re good at reheating.”

Otabek hops up onto the counter across from him. Watching him blow at the steaming chicken speared on his fork. “How was it?”

“Mm-“ Yuri chews, bringing a hand over his mouth, “Boring. A lot of people reading teleprompters. A lot of handshaking. Not enough booze. Usual.” He blows at his fork again, “What’d you do? Besides look at photos of me?”

Otabek smiles sheepishly, “Talked with my sister, who then reminded me to call my- our mother, so I obliged.”

“I see. Is that why you fell asleep?”

Otabek laughs with a shrug, “Maybe. I think I probably just wanted the time to go by faster.”

Yuri slows his chewing, it’s dark so it’s hard to tell but Otabek is positive a color creeps into Yuri’s cheeks. “You should sit next to me.” Yuri looks down when he says it but still tilts his head to the empty space next to him. 

_Of course_. Swiftly, Otabek drops off and goes over to him, hopping up to sit close enough that the sides of their bodies touch. Immediately Yuri leans his head on his shoulder, chewing bites of his dinner and contently resting his gaze on their legs pressed into one another. 

Otabek doesn’t-  
He doesn’t know how he’ll ever leave. 

“Some lady told me I have the soul of a polar bear.” Yuri takes another nonchalant bite of his food. “Sorry- a ‘glorious shimmering polar bear’.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Did you ever notice how donors at fundraising events are fucking out of their minds crazy?”

Otabek laughs, “I guess so.”

“She meant it literally. She meant that inside of me is the soul of a glorious shimmering polar bear. Like it died and was reborn as this- me-“

“That’s-“

“Plausible? I know.”

Otabek shakes his head, “Some man at a fundraising event once offered me a lifetime membership to his golf course but said it was under the condition I go to his daughter’s graduation. He told me he’d pick me up in his helicopter and then gave me a business card for his helicopter pilot.”

Yuri coughs on his swallow, “Fuck. No golf course membership is worth that shit.”

“I repeatedly told him that I don’t golf. I don’t know why he offered it.”

Yuri laughs. “A guy once asked me if I’ve ever shot a gun before. Like straight up, shook my hand, congratulated me on some win, then asked if I’d ever held and shot a gun before.”

“ _Oh_!-” Otabek turns to him, eyes wide, “Me too.”

Yuri puts a hand over his mouth covering his grin over his chewing, “ _Really_? Is it the same guy?” 

“I don’t know. Mine had a cane.”

“Mm. No. No cane for mine. He had an earring though. I think it was the infinity symbol or something else fucking insane.” 

“Mm.” Otabek sighs and rests his cheek on Yuri’s head, “Must be a popular pastime for those folk.”

Yuri eats the last few bites of his dinner, “I’d always look for photos of you at events too.” Otabek closes his eyes and presses his cheek more into the top of Yuri’s head.  
“I probably still will even when we go together.”

Otabek smiles, “We’ll send them to each other.”

Yuri makes a soft sweet sound then sets his empty dish to the side. He grabs Otabek’s hand to pull into his lap, turning it over and trailing his fingertips over Otabek’s palm. Otabek could dream so peacefully like this-  
“Thanks for feeding the cats.” Yuri says it, sinking more into his shoulder. 

“Always, Yuri.”

...  


**=======**


	25. Part IV: 6. Windswept

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 11 (7 Days Left)**

...  


It smells like pot roast.  
Otabek watches as Yuri stirs a simmering pot of vegetables, towel over his shoulder, shaking the pan slightly here and there.  
Otabek is sitting on one of the high stools across from him, replying to emails and text messages he’s been neglecting on his phone, stopping every now and then so he can look on at Yuri adoringly then having to re-write nearly everything he was in the middle of writing because he lost his train of thought.

“ _Ah_! Hey, can you grab me my phone? I gotta call Yuuri before I forget to tell him you’re going to the rink with me tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Otabek stands and walks over to the end table by the bed, taking Yuri’s phone off it’s charger—

“3 Messages from ____” 

Otabek blinks and quickly turns the screen down, walking over to hand it to him.

“Thanks-”  
Yuri makes a face when he looks at it but doesn’t say anything, quickly navigating and pressing the call button on Yuuri’s contact before setting the phone down on the counter on speaker.

“Hello Yuri!”

“Hey, listen-“

Otabek doesn’t hear the rest. Just keeps walking, over to the living room and down the stairs, head hung, lost in thought. Trying to keep himself grounded but out of Yuri’s vision.

Sometimes it was hard.  
To not be insecure.  
Even for Otabek.

...  


...  


“The hell- you’re down here?”

Otabek glances up and pulls his headphones down. “Mm. Yeah. Working.” He pushes his chair out. 

Yuri looks at him suspiciously but leaves it alone, “Well. Dinner’s ready. Come up whenever-“ When he turns to go, Otabek stands, catching up to him and wrapping an arm around his waist, kissing the back shell of his ear as they shuffle up the stairs clumsily. Yuri squirms, grinning into his cheek.  
“You don’t always have to work down there, you know.”

“Mm.” Otabek’s fingers trail over Yuri’s side as Yuri walks ahead of him back to the kitchen. He looks on, standing in place. 

Otabek can feel his jaw clenching down the line of his neck. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, biting deep behind his lip.  
Hiding isn’t a possibility. Yuri is too good at reading people. Dinner would be over as soon as it started.  
_This_ -

“Yuri?”

This was not going to be pleasant.

“Hm?”

He thought- Otabek thought he was over this.  
His eyes blur across the serene outline of Yuri standing over the stove.  
_No_.  
He’s _really_ not over this-

“When I unplugged your phone, you _ah_ -“ Otabek leans his head uncomfortably to the side, cringing at his own words, “You had messages-“

Yuri stares blankly at him, “Yeah, from ____. I saw.”

Otabek presses his lips together tightly. “Okay.” His fingers pull at the lining inside his pockets.  
He’s not okay.  
It’s obvious he’s not okay.

Yuri’s face shifts fast, mouth going to an ‘o’ shape, eyebrows raise, “... _Seriously_?”

“No.“ Otabek shuffles back then steps up again, “Yes,” He corrects himself, putting a hand to his brow. “Why uh-“

“ _Oh_ \- my god.” Yuri’s eyes are wide. There’s almost a smile playing across his lips. Almost.  
_But_ -  
Otabek doesn’t find it as amusing as he does.  
It weirdly makes it all more irritating for him. 

His whole upper body turns into brick wall.  
Surely, anyone would feel this- feel this storm brewing after seeing something like that- A message from an ex-lover with that kind of... notoriety- _with that kind of_ -  
He keeps his tone firm, serious, “Does he text you often?”

“Uh-“ Yuri blinks, “What does ‘often’ mean? Maybe? Like monthly maybe? I don’t know. He asked me about some concert. I haven’t even responded yet.”

Otabek chokes, “‘ ** _Yet_** ’?”

They stare. Both equally bewildered by the other.

Yuri shifts first, putting a hand up like he’s trying to grapple with a mess being laid out on the floor in front of him, “You’re actually being serious right now? This is real? _You_ \- You honestly think he’s-“

“Yes.” Otabek says it, unwavering, not backing down. 

“You don’t even know him-“

“I don’t have to.”

“Ha! _Actually_ \- Yes! Yes, you fucking do! What in the serious fuck, Otabek? After all of this you’re going to stand there and say you don’t fucking trust me?“

“It’s not you-“

“YES IT FUCKING IS! It’s my phone. It’s my conversation. Yes it fucking is about me!”

“Fine. It is then. Why are you encouraging it-“

“Encouraging it?! Encouraging what, Otabek? Encouraging this made up motivation in your head that he just wants me to fuck him?”

“Again.”

Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You’ve already fucked him.” Otabek’s head snaps to the side as soon as he says it. 

The silence is so loud.  
Yuri takes an excruciatingly long inhale, wiping a hand on the back of his neck. “ _That_... that’s some _real_ righteous hypocritical bullshit you’re throwing, Otabek- I’m- _Jesus_ \- I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you but _this_ \- this is not- you need to figure it the fuck out- like now. ”

Otabek walks to the bed, not looking at him.

Yuri’s voice follows, rising and falling, “You seriously have the audacity to say what you just said with the tone you just fucking used- while losing your god damned mind over a text-“ They meet eyes, piercing into one another, “I never thought you would be such a condescending controlling dick, Otabek, Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

Otabek throws his jacket on, and Yuri’s eyes go manic, “ _You’re leaving_? Are you fucking kidding me? _FUCKING WHERE_?!”

Otabek doesn’t say anything, he can’t. He can’t think, his hands are shaking- something he thought he buried very very deep to the point he resigned it to having already rotted and fertilized the ground is actually very much alive and just broke the surface, wrecking havoc on everything inside him. Stiffly he strides to the door.  
“I can’t be in here with you, Yuri. Yes. I’m leaving.”  
He turns the knob, steps out, slamming it shut behind him. 

Gone.

He had to.  
He doesn’t have the words like Yuri does. He can’t just spit them out and throw them back the way Yuri can. So Otabek has to. He has to go-  
Leave Yuri.  
Leave the apartment for the cold, windowless hall, facing the elevator.  
He pushes the button for the lift and waits.  
His fingers twitch against his sides. 

Now that he’s away he can-

He can put together what just happened...

His clenched throat begins to loosen.  
His eyes regain some focus.

 _That’s_ -

Better. 

He relaxes his chest. Breathes in deep. Times it. Takes it in, holds it, and releases.  
Again. And again. 

_Okay_.  
Now he can parse it. Work through everything.  
The words ringing in his ears.  
His own words.  
His words-  
His wor-  
_No_.  
Oh my god.  
_No no no no_ -  
He spins, turning around and reaching back for the handle, ignoring the elevator dinging it’s arrival, pushing the apartment door back open and frantically looking for Yuri.  
His lungs tighten when he sees him, sitting on the kitchen floor, his back up against the stove.  
Yuri looks up at him with exhausted wet eyes- like he just got knocked out and he has no idea know why or where it came from. 

_No_. 

“ _I’m sorry_ -“ Otabek says it letting the pain hit him everywhere.  
He goes to him, angrily throwing his jacket off, his knees sliding to the floor. “ _I’m so sorry_ -“ Otabek knows he shouldn’t but he doesn’t even give him a choice, doesn’t ask first, just wraps his arms around him, and by some miracle that he doesn’t deserve, Yuri falls into his chest, wetting his shirt on impact. “Oh my god, Yuri- I’m sorry. _I was_ -“

“- A fucking asshole.” Yuri finishes it for him, wiping his nose on Otabek’s shirt and pulling back to look at him. “Holy shit, that sucked.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _I_ -“ Otabek pulls back, his face defeated, Otabek really thought he was over this...  
“I didn’t like it.”

Through his tears Yuri manages a scoff, “Okay. Got that. Loud and clear-“

“I shouldn’t have-“ Otabek hangs his head low, arms still around Yuri, holding him close, completely ashamed of himself and how childish he was about to sound.  
“He’s a good artist.”

Yuri gives a shocked laugh. “What!”

“No, _I_ -“ Otabek sighs, god he’s disgusted with himself. So utterly disgusted with himself. His legs fall open, bracketing Yuri on either side. “ _I_ \- before I saw the- before the pictures came out of the two of you-“ He sighs even louder with a disappointed moan trailing the end-  
“I was a fan.” 

“Oh-” Yuri’s eyes blow wide. “-no.”  
His mind putting pieces together while Otabek continues wanting to shame himself to a cave.  
“So... when you saw those pap shots _you_ -” Yuri pauses to rub his eyes and wipe his nose on Otabek’s shirt again, “You saw me- the person you were hopelessly in love with?” Otabek looks up sadly, acknowledging the truth of it, “And you saw him- The guy you got like music boners from... you saw us... making out in a parking lot?” They both grimace, “ _That_ -“ Yuri’s eyes glaze over imagining it, “-that must have been a bad fucking day. How into his stuff were you?”

Otabek leans his head down on his hands, staring at the ground, “Vinyls. On the wall.”

Yuri furrows his brow, then puts up a hand, still trying to take it all in, “So, are you jealous of him or... are you jealous me?”

They look at each other and Otabek can’t help it- He lets himself smile. He reaches out to tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ear. “Him. Certainly, him.” 

The memory of himself flashing in his mind of when he first saw those shots come out. How quickly he spiraled. When he tore the vinyls off the wall and heard the buzz at his door. His sister. Knowing to come over without saying anything. As soon as she stepped into his apartment, she spotted the vinyls strewn on the floor, picked them up and announced loudly to herself how she was taking them to the local used record store and left without having to say goodbye.

“It...” Otabek hates himself, “It shouldn’t have- but it felt personal- seeing you with him... There are few things I’ve ever hated as much as seeing that. And you’re right. I don’t know him, there’s nothing justified in this, _nothing_ \- I just-“

“You think he’s really fucking cool and you’ve looked up to him and you think it’s totally possible he could take me away? Also any inspiration you had from this guy is blown cause he had sex with me? Had sex with me while you were too nervous to do anything except send random congratulations texts?”

Otabe buries his face in his hands, groaning, wholly defeated.

“Otabek-“

Otabek keeps his hands plastered to his face despite Yuri tugging on them.

“Otabek- stop- you’re not- it’s fine.” Yuri gives up and sighs, “ _Ugh_ , I’m sorry too.”

That causes Otabek to bring them down-  
“No.” He says it voice firm, “Yuri, you have _nothing_ -“

“No. _I_ \- fucking hell, he could- he might just want to fuck around again- I was just so fucking angry at you-“ He groans, “Otabek.” Yuri eye’s look inward, sad sincerity sweeping over his face. “I would _never_ \- never-“

“Yuri, no-” Otabek sulks down, both hands holding Yuri’s right, “I know that. It wasn’t- I was in a loop- I couldn’t grasp why you’d continue talking to him if you didn’t-“

Yuri pulls his hand out from Otabek’s grasp and crosses his arms over his chest. “Come on, Otabek-“ There’s a sharpness in his tone, “You know this...“ Otabek wishes he did, “ _Ugh_ \- I’m basically friendless, you prick. That shouldn’t be fucking news to you.” Yuri’s brows sink forward watching Otabek slump more into himself, “I know that doesn’t like, excuse it all but- maybe you haven’t noticed most of the conversations I have on here are about stupid work shit. Not regular people shit. Like fucking concerts. People don’t- they don’t just text me like you. I’m not you. People don’t- they don’t wanna just reach out and chat about their farts or whatever Leo or whoever talks to you about. And like I’m sure most of that is on me but- getting asked about a fucking concert is like- I dunno, it can be nice sometimes, I guess. I can pretend I’m not me- or something. _God_. This is exactly why I wish we didn’t have to fucking hide-”

Otabek imagines the world knowing Yuri was his and it does bring a flicker of heat back through his cold damp body. He feels terrible. _God_. He feels terrible. 

“- That way these fucking clingers will leave me-“ 

Otabek reaches for his hand again and stares at it between his own. Eyes still downturned and sad.  
He really likes this hand. It’s his favorite hand. He can’t believe-  
He can’t believe he said those-

“No one is you, Otabek-“ Yuri picks himself up, inching himself closer to the space between Otabek’s legs. “No one.“ He leans in, murmuring it against Otabek’s lips.  
Otabek feels the tug inside him. It was so easy- all Yuri had to do was touch him- look at him like this- “I don’t want him.” Yuri shakes his head eyes swimming up and down Otabek’s body hungrily, “I don’t want _any_ of them-“ He trails a finger down Otabek’s cheek and along his jaw, his eyelids softening down. He looks thoughtfully at the part of Otabek’s jaw that meets his ear, “I _only want you_.“  
No control.  
Otabek stands and Yuri shifts off him and rises up too. Otabek doesn’t deserve him. Not right now. Not after what he did.  
But Yuri is asking him for something. And as Otabek knows and Yuri’s talent knows, Yuri feels so wholly with his body. Loves with his body. Hurts with his body. Forgives with his body.  
And Otabek has no control-

He rakes his fingers through the side of Yuri’s hair and pulls him in for a hard kiss. Their teeth clash, frustrated by sudden desperation. He’s still so angry at himself, it sparks off every movement. His tongue snakes into Yuri’s mouth, waking it up, telling it push back- telling it how much he needs him and how ashamed of himself he is. Otabek opens more, his fingers clawing into the back of Yuri’s hair and pulling just enough to-  
Yuri moans, that low velvet tone vibrating out his mouth and into Otabek’s. He grips into Otabek’s shirt to press his hips in deeper and they both shake out a breath.

Otabek needs him. Needs every part of him. Naked. And touching him. Needs to give him everything-  
Yuri’s hands slide down to Otabek’s ass and he has to pause their kissing to suck in a breath, gripping and pushing Otabek aggressively into his hard cock.  
At his limit, Otabek breaks away to turn around, fingers interlacing with Yuri’s and leading them to the bed.  
He tugs Yuri and spins him in front of him, kissing him with a promise, guiding him down till Yuri is sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

Otabek stands straight, his own dick hard and pushing against the seam of his pants. Wanting Yuri’s mouth. His hands. His body. His voice. He tucks Yuri’s hair behind his ear and keeps his hand there.  
“What do you want, Yuri?”  
Yuri blinks up at him.  
Otabek cradles his cheek, insides still wrecked with guilt, “I’ll do anything. You can have _anything_ -“

A sly smile crosses Yuri’s lips and Otabek nearly bends down to split it open with his tongue but wills himself to hold back. Waiting. Letting Yuri answer.  
Yuri sits up more, eyes settling over Otabek’s hips and the hardened cock branded and growing for him, pressing painfully against the crotch of his pants for him- always him. Yuri reaches a finger out, tracing the outline, “I want to know what you wished you could do to me when you first saw those photos...“ 

Otabek’s heart stops.  
He stares at Yuri.  
Looks at his shoulders. The sharp edges next to the soft curves of his face. His arms and the bold undercurrent of strength they flex when he stretches them out long. He thinks back to the way Yuri walks into the practice rink at competitions. The smoothness in his movements. The way he angles his body when he’s idle. The way he angles it when he’s in a suit. His body in a suit. The way his hand curls over a glass. His collarbone peaking at the top of his shirt.  
That night at the hotel in Oslo when Yuri’s tie was undone, his sleeves rolled up, casually taking a phone call on the couch-  
That itch Otabek has...

“Yuri-“

Yuri leans in pressing his lips into Otabek’s lower abs through his shirt. “Hm?” He looks up, expectantly. 

“ _I wanted_ \- You don’t have to- I’ll understand, especially after how abhorrent I just was- but...”

Yuri’s eyes freeze- maybe landing on what Otabek is going to ask before Otabek can get it out on his own.

Otabek continues, “ _Would_ \- would you want to-“

“You want me to fuck you?”

Otabek swallows with a short nod. 

Yuri swallows seeing Otabek swallow.  
He pulls back, tilting his head to the side. His eyes scan over Otabek’s face, like they’re trying to suss out how genuine this request was. “You want that?”

 _Very_. Especially hearing- being reminded of everything moments ago-

“Yes.”

“Otabek- if this is just a jealous thing again-“

“It’s not.” Otabek says it, voice hard in his sincerity. “I’ve- I’ve wanted- I’ve thought about you- in me. I wasn’t sure if that was something you ever wanted or even engaged in before but since you told me _I_ \- I can’t stop thinking about it, if you wanted-”

Yuri leans back on his hands, looking him over, eyes still combing. “Come here.”

A rare flutter of unknown beats below Otabek’s ribs. He brings a knee up on the bed and leans down. Yuri’s still watching him for any clues that he doesn’t actually mean this- he brings a hand up, tenderly brushing Otabek’s hair back then traces his fingers down under Otabek’s chin, guiding it closer to his mouth.  
Yuri brings their lips together and whispers, “I think about it too.” Otabek sucks in a hot breath, blood surging to the space between his legs. Yuri taps a finger that’s still under Otabek’s chin, “How do you want me in you?” He asks it, his voice low and husky, veiling over Otabek’s skin like silk. 

“ _I_ -“ Otabek is... it’s not that he doesn’t want this it’s just- “I don’t exactly know- I’ve never-“

Yuri pulls back, face snapped into bewilderment. “Sorry, what?”

“I haven’t ever-“ he says it, eyes darting to the cats who just ran by chasing each other. “Received.”

“WHAT”

Otabek breaks out into a surprised smile, “Yuri- Really, I don’t care-“

“Oh my god! Why didn’t you say something the other night when we were talking about this, Otabek?! You nearly dropped dead in the shower when you thought you’d broken in my asshole the first time we did it- WHY WOULD THIS IS BE ANY DIFFERENT?!”

“Again, because I don’t care-“

“I CARE!” Yuri falls back on the bed, hands over his face. “Holy fuck. No.” He shakes his head. “ _We’re_ \- no. We’re not doing this tonight. Jesus Christ. I need to- fucking plan or something-“

“Yuri-“ Otabek holds back the laughter tickling at his throat, coming to sit on the bed facing him him. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but I certainly don’t need anything- especially not rose petals-“

Yuri groans into his hands still covering his face, “ _Ugh_. Yes you do, Otabek. You’re the _only one_ that should have fucking rose petals. God _dammit_ -“

“Yuri-“ Otabek eyes soften more and more down. He covers one of Yuri’s hands with his, “I really don’t- I’m fine with you just-“

“No.”

“I didn’t know this would upset you so much-“

“I’M NOT UPSET!”

Otabek nods to himself. 

Yuri takes his hands away. “I’m not! _I’m_ -“ he sighs, “Otabek, why didn’t you tell me? God! What if I had tried something? Would you have said fucking anything?“

“I think so.”

“YOU THINK SO?!” 

“Yuri... it’s not like I haven’t had anything in me before-“

“Well unless one of those things was a fucking penis-“

“No, _but_ -“ Otabek can’t believe this is making himself blush as much as it is, “a finger or two-“ 

“Okay, I don’t know if you noticed, Otabek, but my dick might be a bit bigger than a ‘ _finger or two_ ’- Jesus Christ-“

“I’ve noticed.” Otabek likes noticing. Really likes noticing. Difficult not to notice. _Mm_. He’s certainly noticed. “Yuri- I don’t know how to assure you how little this means to me-“

“Really? That’s why you’ve never had someone fuck you before? Because it means so little to you? _Really_ , Otabek?”

Otabek sighs and flops down on the bed now too. Arms out. “By the time I probably would have explored any of that I was already falling in love with you, Yuri. It didn’t have a lot of appeal to me from anyone else-“

“And now it does?!”

Otabek squints up into the ceiling, “Yes. Did you not have something similar?”

Yuri stutters out a sound and presses his lips tights, eyes also fixed on the ceiling. “... Yeah.”

Otabek pulls a hand through his own hair and keeps it there, settling on a thought, “It’s alright too. Really. If you don’t want to-“

“No. That’s not- that’s not it. There’s like- fifty things going on with this, I’m trying to keep them all straight. _Just_ \- give me a sec.” Yuri has his eyes closed, thumb pressing into the space between his brows. 

Otabek waits, looking over randomly, seeing Yuri hasn’t changed, then going back to the ceiling. He wonders if he too should have fifty things processing with his request.  
He thinks on it, inwardly searching-  
_No_  
He doesn’t.  
He’d like Yuri in him.  
That’s it.  
_The rest is_ \- he listens for anything else... _crickets_. 

After a few more minutes Yuri pulls himself up, eyes still closed, like he doesn’t want to lose anything he’s mentally arrived on. He holds a finger up, “ **Number one** \- I want to fuck you. _That’s_ \- that’s not even a question. I would fuck you- you seriously have no idea how good I would fuck you. So no. This isn’t me not wanting to fuck you- kind of. _Well_ \- We’ll come back to this. I probably numbered these in the wrong order. **Two** -“ Yuri opens his eyes, “you should have told me-“ Otabek frowns, Yuri repeats it, “No, you should have. If my goal is to make you come like a geyser, which it is, I need to know shit like that so I don’t do something stupid. Which, praise the gods of fuck I never did, honestly I don’t know how that happened. Somehow you managed to turn me into a fucking mennonite. **Three** -“ he bites back something, “I want to fuck you- I know I want to fuck you- my dick is like, _so ready_ to fuck you but... _I_ -“ Otabek braces himself, “I can’t like- see it. _I can’t_ \- I think about it. I know I want it. But it’s like my head shuts off or something,” Yuri picks at the bedsheet, frustrated, “I didn’t like them. Any of them. I knew I didn’t like them. Beyond you know- for that reason. Which is shit, I know it is- and I never fucked anyone who didn’t know that going into it _but_ -“ Yuri cuts himself off by biting hard into his lip. 

Otabek turns to face him more, brows knit. 

“That version of me-“ Yuri tilts his head to the side, scowling from whatever is circling inside his mind, “It’s not my favorite. I don’t know how to-” They lock eyes, “Like I can fuck you, Otabek. It’d take me a bit to get used to probably, I was really trying to flip my head into place when you asked me just now- and I knew I’d be worried as shit the whole time but- I could get there. You’re _so fucking hot_ \- I could definitely get there. _But_ -“ Yuri moans again and pushes his face into his hands, “If it’s your first... Otabek, I have to fuck you like I love you-“ Yuri shakes his head, eyes searching for something, “I do. _You_ \- it’s you. You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t be stuck with me for this. I can’t fuck you the way I know how to fuck. I’d have to fuck you like I love you. And I have no fucking idea how to do that. When I think of whatever the hell love is... it’s not me fucking someone. Not even close.”

Otabek speeds through his thoughts, replaying over everything Yuri just said, trying to gather a response as fast as he can. “Yuri, casual sex isn’t- it doesn’t make you- bad. We’ve both had sex with people we knew we didn’t feel anything more for. In fact-“ Otabek shakes his head at himself, “As short lived as it was, I was the one who had a whole relationship despite knowing I felt nothing for it. Which I would argue is significantly worse than an occasional fling.”

Yuri brings his knees up and wraps his arms over them, resting his head down. The words Otabek just said looking like they’re just sliding off Yuri’s back and tumbling down onto bedspread. 

Otabek frowns and adjusts himself, “What do you think of?” Yuri stares back. “You mentioned thinking about whatever love might be. What do you think of?”

Yuri’s eyelids look heavy, “You.” He says it with barely a pause, “You- anything you. Fucking me. Looking at me. Shirtless. In a Nike ad. Eating. Flossing. Breathing. Literally anything. _Just_... you.”

“‘ _Just me_ ’? _Anything_ me?” Otabek raises a brow, landing on something. “If I were to kiss someone el-“

“Stop. No.”

Otabek presses anyway, “Yuri- you just said _anything_ me. If you were to see me with someone else-“

“I’d hate them. I’d light them on fire and kick them in the fucking face so they’d fall down the stairs and land into a concussion.”

“Okay, well-“

“-Then they’d wake up in the hospital and I’d find their room and break in through the window. Take the jello off their tray, eat it in front of them then take the tray and smash it into their liver-“

“Yuri-“

“Then, cause they’d be all helpless and doubled over in a hospital bed, I’d take their phone and throw it at the tv. That way the tv is ruined and they have a cracked screen on their phone. Then I’d get them to unlock it so I could open up their contacts and text everyone in there a photo of my asshole-“

“ _Jesus_ , Yuri-“

“Also my taint-“

“Sure, of course-“ Otabek sighs and submits to sitting this out until Yuri’s finished. 

“After that I’d call the nurse, cause that person cannot be in a good place now- like physically but also emotionally- and as soon as I heard help on the way I’d get the hell out.” Yuri inadvertently does look significantly more at peace than he did before he answered Otabek’s question. “Okay, I’d probably roll them out of the bed first so I could hear them thunk onto the floor then I’d get the fuck out.” He finishes looking like he just answered something as ordinary as what they should have for dinner tomorrow night. 

Otabek closes his mouth and tries to get back to the point he was trying to make before- all that, “Okay. _But_ \- What I meant to ask was whether seeing me with someone else- would that still be love for you?”

“Did you not just hear me? I’d send all their contacts a photo of my taint- “

“Right. But you said _anything me_. If it’s anything, why would me suddenly being with someone else change that?”  
Otabek sits up, face soft and waiting. 

Yuri looks back at him, brows furrowed. Thinking. Countless thoughts reflecting back in his eyes. “I don’t- I know what you’re trying to do but-“

Otabek smiles, “What am I trying to do?”

“You’re trying to say it’s me- or something. Like I’m not a fucking gargoyle summoned from the gates of hell, which is useless-“

“How can you be a gargoyle summoned from the gates of hell if you feel love when I kiss you and hold you and fuck you, Yuri?” Otabek watches Yuri’s pupils widen on ‘fuck’. “Is a gargoyle summoned from the gates of hell really capable of feeling and knowing something like that? Or are you saying you don’t actually feel that way? That it’s not real?- you don’t-?”

“Of course it’s fucking real-“

“Then why wouldn’t _you_ be a part of it?” Otabek inches closer to him, head leaning down, “If its not there when you imagine me with someone else. And if it’s stronger when it’s you I’m kissing- Maybe it’s possible, Yuri, that this meaning of love that you have-“

“You make it sound like a fucking movie, I don’t mean-“

“-That this meaning, isn’t just me. Not actually. That to make it-“ Otabek rolls his eyes and reaches out to forcibly keep Yuri from burying his head in his arms, “That to make it true, you’re a part of it.” Otabek cups his face, keeping it on him, “It’s not me, Yuri.” Otabek shakes his head, eyes open and clear, “It’s not. _It’s us_.”

Yuri stays locked on him. 

“It doesn’t work unless you’re there too.” Otabek looks down remembering, “Believe me, Yuri, I know. You weren’t there and now you are. It’s very different.”  
This time Otabek sees the words soaking in. And because Yuri looks at him with eyes that look so close to being on the brink of reaching something Otabek kisses him. Kisses him hard. Kisses him like they’re about to sink into the earth. Opens his mouth and wraps his tongue around Yuri’s, sliding them into each other.  
Yuri responds with relief. Falling in pace with Otabek’s lead, fingertips reaching out, tickling the hairs at the nape of Otabek’s neck in the way that makes goosebumps rise on Otabek’s arms. Yuri licks inside his mouth, breath growing hotter. Their hands start sliding under each other’s shirts, craving each other’s skin and the ridges and groves they’ve begun to memorize. Otabek twists his tongue in Yuri’s mouth, pulling out a needy whine from the back of Yuri’s throat. 

Otabek smiles, “ _See_ -“ he trails his fingers along Yuri’s sides, hoping to coax a shudder, “That’s why kissing you-“ Otabek kisses his hair and Yuri shudders, “Touching you-“ he slides his hands down Yuri’s lower back and kneads into him, “ _Fucking you_ -“ Otabek presses his hips in, fire leaving his lips when he hears the light moan Yuri breathes into his neck, “-feels so different for us than it did with everyone else.” He leans their foreheads against the each other, “Because you love me, Yuri. And I love you. That can’t just disappear because you’d be the one-“ Otabek closes his eyes and kisses the corner of Yuri’s mouth, “-penetrating-“

“‘ _Penetrating_ ’?!”  
Otabek grins mischievously, seeing the disgust on Yuri’s face. That one dinner with Victor really taught him some valuable tric- “You’d rather say ‘penetrating’ than ‘fucking’ _that_ much?!-“

“Mm.” Otabek kisses him again before leaning back on his hands. Despite the fresh thin layer of disgust on his face, Yuri looks more resolved than before. Certainly more assured at least-  
_He should_. Otabek loves him so overwhelmingly-

“You still should have fucking told me.” Yuri bows his head down, a hint of disappointment that Otabek feels a rightful stinging in his chest from. 

“I-“ Otabek goes to say again how much it didn’t mean to him but the memory of himself reacting and the panic he felt when he thought Yuri had never-  
“I should have.”

“And you should have told me about ____. You’ve never shown any sign that you’ve ever cared about anyone I’ve-“ Yuri sighs and rubs at his eyes, “That really came out of fucking nowhere, Otabek. Jesus- it would have been nice to have a heads up- but it also never would have happened cause I would have thrown that text thread in the fucking trash as soon as you fucking told me.“

Otabek bites behind his lip. The pull in his chest drags him so deep, hearing it.  
“I know,“ he nods, “I’m sorry, Yuri.”

“Is there-“ Yuri blinks, “... Anyone else?”

Otabek brings his head back up, “No. No one. He was the only one I ever had that extreme of a feeling towards.”

“Like you wanted to light him on fire and kick him down the stairs?”

“Yes. And- what was it? Break into the hospital room and eat his pudding-“

“Jello-“

“Eat his jello. Yes. Thank you.” Otabek gives a light smile and looks back down. “I’m sorry I said something that would make you think I didn’t trust you, Yuri.” Otabek shakes his head, “It was childish. It said more about me than you. I’m sorry-“

“Otabek,” Yuri looks at him, the glint of something new sparking behind his eyes, “I’m going to fuck you.”

Otabek laughs. 

“Not tonight-“ Yuri juts it in fast. “But I’m going to. I will. I’m going to deflower your asshole, Otabek.”

Otabek nods, blinking at the bed with heat rising into his face. “That’s... quite beautiful, Yuri. Thank you. I’m honored.”

“Mm,” Yuri sits up and crawls over his legs, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, “You’re mine.” Otabek nods with it. He was. So fully and entirely he was Yuri’s. Has been. “I love you and you’re mine and I’m going to fuck you.”

“You still don’t have to-“

Yuri stops him with his lips searing into his. “Shut up and fuck me so we can finally eat dinner. Unless there’s something else you need confess to then we can talk about that for another two hours and do this all over agai-“

Otabek shuts him back up with his lips. “There’s nothing-“ he snakes his tongue over his his, “You’ll have to be the one to take your own clothes off his time, Yuri, or else I’m going to rip them, I’m not in the most even state right now-“

Yuri groans into his mouth and grinds into him with with a wicked grin.

Otabek refuses to take his lips off him until they come.

Yuri straddles him. Naked and grinding. They sit, chests burning and pressed.  
Yuri’s impatient. _Always so fucking impatient_.  
Otabek barely had time to work him open before Yuri moved his fingers out and sunk down on him. Now he slides over Otabek’s cock like he’s running out of time- his body perfect, always curving, every motion rippling through every part of him. His skin already slick from the desperation for _him_ -  
Otabek needs to keep his mind occupied. Needs to keep himself busy. He wants to grip into Yuri’s hips- grip into them so Yuri pounds down harder, faster and harder, till the floor shakes under them- Otabek tries to stop the urge by focusing in on trapping Yuri’s tongue in his mouth- it takes a few tilts of his head- a few beckons from his own tongue until Yuri is brought back into the present and slips in with a smirk- Otabek captures it, and sucks Yuri’s tongue like it’s dripping something sweet-  
They climb so fast.  
Trailing his mouth down Yuri’s neck, Otabek narrows on Yuri’s arched bouncing cock- the hunger below his abdomen echoing back that he’ll die if he doesn’t feel it in his hand- he grasps it at the base, steadying it, stroking him with fire and the come that it seeps. 

“Mmmm-“  
Yuri claws into his back and Otabek thrusts up into him. Meeting his pumps. Yuri treats it like a gift- just leans over, angling himself more so he can take advantage of Otabek fucking up into him deeper. “ _Otabek_ -“  
Withstanding- it isn’t possible. _He_ \- he can’t. Not anymore. Otabek lets his lust burn through him, finally letting his free hand grip into Yuri’s hip so he can pull him down hard on every thrust. Yuri cries, his back arching, and writhes over him more.  
Otabek’s lips open and press into the haven of his collarbone. 

“Yes- yesyes _yesyes_ \- right _th_ -“ Yuri tenses, mouth open, stretching with his nails digging into Otabek’s shoulders as Otabek pounds up into him with his thumb stroking over the wet slit of his cock. 

Yuri comes.  
And the constriction that occurs from the strength of his orgasm causes Otabek to come seconds after.  
He moans free and _long_ , his teeth hovering over Yuri’s skin. The first time his lips aren’t touching him since they started. 

Yuri slumps over, “ _Oh my god_.”  
Otabek clings to him, arms wrapped tightly around Yuri’s middle, still shaking at his own core.  
“Okay. You might have a point.” Yuri pants it out, sloppily kissing his shoulder. 

Otabek rests his head on him, breathing heavy, “Hm?”

“The love part. That shit you were saying. It is- it’s better when I’m with you.”

...  


**=======**


	26. Part IV: 7. Ordinary Things

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 12 (6 Days Left)**

...  


The studio floods heavy with natural light, all thanks to the wall of windows reflecting off the adjacent wall of mirrors. Not even the old run down building across the street can provide a sense of shade.  
Otabek understands why Yuri makes this his first training of every day- waking up _is_ easier in here. The coffee on the corner isn’t bad either. Yuuri was kind enough to pick some up for each of them.  
Otabek sips his from the far corner where he’s sitting quietly, knees up, jacket still on and welcoming the warmth from the paper cup between his hands.

It’s just as he remembers as a kid. The same mystification. The same kind of-  
Well-  
_It-_  
It isn’t fair.  
It’s not.  
Despite his years in age and the love Otabek has for him, Otabek still feels the same punch in his gut watching Yuri now as he did all those years ago.  
Because it wasn’t fair. How good Yuri Plisetsky was at this _isn’t fair_.  
Otabek has always thought of it as being some kind of mutation. The physical parts that make Yuri- Yuri’s bones and the muscles sewn around them- it was all genetically engineered to be stretched and angled exactly how they are here. Yuri’s entire physical structure coupled with his own overactive mind were meant for this. No matter how hard anyone else worked they wouldn’t have a chance. Their bodies would never be as natural as Yuri Plisetsky’s body was here in this room, holding these poses and moving between them.  
It’s still the same righteous indignation that sparks inside Otabek.  
Except now the punch thaws on impact. Thaws into something tender and warm. Like a drop of gold seeping through Otabek’s heart. 

Seeing Yuuri next to him brings an even rarer blend. It’s artfully hypnotic- the way he watches so closely and will step through choreographed motions side by side. It’s calming. Especially when they talk low and detailed about a particular position or energetically start nodding when they agree on some shared instinct.  
Otabek wants to press his ear to the floor and memorize the vibrations of each and every movement. Maybe next time he’ll bring his recording equipment and pick up the way Yuri’s feet slide and land on the floor. Or even capture the light indecipherable mumblings that occur between him and Yuuri.

Everyone stops.

There’s a creek at the door-  
All three of them stare startled at it, holding their breath-

Victor Nikiforov appears, flashing a wide smile and giving a quiet nod to his husband while cheerfully ignoring Yuri’s not-so-subtle scowl as he crosses in.  
Yuri whips his head over to Otabek as a silent ‘ _I’m so sorry_.’  
But Otabek shrugs it off.  
He doesn’t mind Victor. Not like Yuri does. He doesn’t doubt Victor is a very specific type of kryptonite to Yuri’s entire character, it just wasn’t Otabek’s own kryptonite. 

Victor peels off his jacket and slides down next to him, folding his coat in his lap and letting out a long sigh.  
“It’s wonderful isn’t it? I love coming here and watching.” He says it softly, eyes settling in. 

Otabek nods. “Mm. It’s soothing.”

“Yes,” Victor’s attention seems to be entirely on his own husband, “It’s so good they found each other in all this. I think, despite Yuuri’s own wins, a part of him lives through Yurio. And Yurio, _well_ \- I suspect they see similar things. It must help knowing that.” Victor lightly motions to Yuri stepping through a complicated spin transition. “How easy it all flows through him... Yura’s always picked it up like it’s-“

“- _nothing_.” Otabek finishes it for him. They look at each other. “I imagine it was similar for you. Similar for Yuuri.” Otabek says it sincerely, not meaning any sort of inflated flattery. Out of the four of them it was definitely Otabek that didn’t fit in with this shared exemplary talent. 

“It was,” Viktor says it matter of factly without any hint of boastfulness or self compliment, “But you know as well as I, how different our Yura is. Granted, we’re here helping him along the way but... he’s further along than I was at his age- the way he looks at his programs is the way I was looking at them in my final years. It’s-“ Victor’s eyes go wide, traveling somewhere else “- _exciting_. What will it be, I wonder? What will he do that surpasses all of us? And it’s just around the corner... I can feel it- I do.”

Otabek smiles, a sense of pride flowing through him- with maybe a splash of fear that he vaporizes on recognition. 

Victor turns to him, “I hear you never enjoyed this part much?” 

Otabek shakes his head, “No. Unfortunately. I wanted to but- I didn’t speak it.”

Victor gives an understanding smile, “You speak wonderfully, Otabek. This is not the company you need to be humble with. Your talent cannot be overstated. There was nothing you needed to be taught, instead you taught the rest of us how to speak it better.”

A flash of heat blooms in Otabek’s chest that he isn’t quite sure what to do with. Victor Nikiforav represents something for everyone. For Otabek, Victor represented all the parts of figure skating Otabek first fell in love with but would never be- No matter how much he wished it or imagined it as a child- Victor was a spell that needed to be broken very early in Otabek’s life.  
_Very_ early.  
“Thank you, Victor.”  
He says it, turning the words over and over in his mind. 

“You know, Yura would never fall in love with anyone less than exceptional. Surely, you would agree with that.” Victor grins at him, a twinkle in his eye. 

Otabek clears his throat, trying to keep himself grounded. “ _Ah_ \- well- I do worry- I only hope I can stay exceptional for him.”  
He wasn’t supposed to say that. _That_ \- that was far more personal than he ever meant to admit— especially seeing how it was-

“ _Oh, Otabek_ -“ Victor’s smile turns down, his whispered voice goes lower in tone, “No. You will never not be exceptional to him. _That’s_ \- that’s not the way it works. Not the way it works at all.” Victor darts his eyes back to Yuri whose standing with his arms on his hips listening closely to Yuuri explain something about a spin, “It’s simply who you are for each other. Just like how you were able to break away from all this and make something new. And just like how he was able to master it as easily as he did. Who you both are, naturally, is exceptional to the other. That doesn’t go away. As long as you’re both living truthful to yourselves- the other will cherish it. You can be sure of that.”

Otabek stares back fully stunned, mouth partway open, a slight tension behind his eyes. Like. Maybe he’s on the brink of tearing up? _Is that possible?_ Victor Nikiforav brought Otabek up to the brink of crying-  
Yuri would kill him if he knew. 

He keeps the tears at bay and manages a nod. If he had a pen on him he’d write the words on his hand so he’d never forget. Years worth of anxieties have been stopped in their tracks. And Victor is-  
_Oh_  
Well  
Completely unaware.  
Yes. Moved on entirely it seems.

Victor is staring ahead with a sly smile. Sneakily he pulls his phone out so he can take photos and videos of... Yuuri- _yes_ , it’s zoomed in exclusively on Yuuri. Victor’s eyes switch between staring dreamily at his husband who is physically in front of him or to the photos he just took of his husband who is physically in front of him.

Otabek smiles to himself.  
“Do you ever join them?”

Victor scoffs, grinning wide and shaking his head at his phone, “God no. Yuri would throw himself out the window.”

...  


...  


Neither Otabek nor Yuri have set foot on the ice since he got here.  
Otabek is stiff but it’s not as bad as the he thought he’d be. 

“Why do you wrap your arms like that?” Yuri circles Otabek, eyes scrutinizing after Otabek’s surprising successful triple axel. “In your jumps. I’ve seen others do it, why did you start doing it?”

Otabek glides backwards, keeping their faces on each other, “A coach put me on it way back because of my shoulders.” He lifts up the corner of his mouth watching Yuri‘s eyes linger over them, “Felt more centered.”

They’d been going back and forth on jumps and different positions for the past 20 minutes or so. Victor and Yakov let them go after warming them up, more confidently than they initially were that the two of them wouldn’t hurt themselves.  
Although Yakov still ended up having to yell at Yuri when Yuri started winding himself up about landing a quad axel. 

Yuri nods to him, “Your hands-“ He side sweeps and curves around him, turning Otabek front facing, “you flatten them. They’re not fists- that’s seat belting, no?“

“Mm.“

“It’s good.“ Yuri says it nonchalantly, “Better than fists. I tried to change mine to that but couldn’t. Drove me fucking nuts-” He says all of it while swiveling effortlessly at Otabek’s side, switching between feet, “It’s cool though. Makes you look you’re about to shoot into fucking space.“

“Mm. I’m sure you could do it,” Otabek cooly turns his gaze away, “If anyone could it’d be you.“

“You’d think that-“ Yuri smirks slowing his glide, purposefully making Otabek brake in place so as not to run into him, “But it’s fucking impossible to change that shit up.“ Yuri stops and reaches up to adjust his own hair, sticking his elastic hair tie between his teeth.  
Whenever they’re both on it, something pulses beneath the ice and vibrates up. It makes Otabek want to claw into Yuri’s hair and rip the band out from his teeth, wishing it was his own bottom lip between them instead. Yuri’s eyes stay on him, clearly amused, “I might have been a bit distracted though-“ he loops his hair through and snaps the band back around, “-since it always made me think about you...“

Blood rushes down and Otabek has to mentally block it.  
“I’ve always wondered-“ he nods to Yuri’s arms, “Why you keep your elbows out on yours. Not that you’ve ever lacked in speed but I imagine tucking them in would be faster-“

Yuri angles his body back, “Yeah, I mean, you just answered it-“  
_God_ -  
His mouth-  
“I go too fucking fast. Especially when all this shit came in-“ Otabek inwardly welcomes the opportunity to look over his body with him, “Every jump turned into a blur. Before I could even figure out what the fuck was going on I’d already landed. Felt ugly. And boring. There wasn’t any _uh_ -“ he dips his head to the side and comes back, “-pause. But if I keep them out, I don’t know, it might all be in my head but it feels like I can mess with the speed more- like a dial or something-“ 

“ _Mm_ -“ Otabek glides to him this time, looking away but still managing to swerve when they’re about to collide, “It explains your Lutz...“ They lock eyes again as they circle like sharks. 

Yuri arches a brow, “You like it?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“There’s still time for you two to give us an encore of that show you put on in Oslo-” Victor calls out while leaning against the rink entrance, “You should have seen them, Yuuri- _the passion_.“

Yuuri grins down at his skates, tying them, “So you’ve said, Victor...“

“I am enjoying these sparks you two are kindling here now.“ Victor cocks his head to side, admiring them, “Although I do worry for the ice- at this rate puddles are bound to start popping up-“

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Don’t you have to go stretch your back out and eat a fucking grapefruit or something, Victor?“ 

Victor wasn’t wrong. 

Yuri draws up speed, making quick eye contact before lifting himself into a signature breathlessly beautiful quad Lutz.  
When Yuri’s feet fuse with the ice there are few things as stunning. And Otabek isn’t unaware of his own skill when his blades cut in either. Especially when he sees the way Yuri’s mouth and hands twitch at his sides while watching him.  
They’ve been subtly and not-so-subtly provoking each other since they got here.

It was becoming painful.  
More than once Otabek has thought of making an excuse to use the showers here and just-

“Yakov, you were there,“ Victor calls to him across the other side of the rink edge. Yakov stares back at Victor like he’s being forced to, “Surely you’d agree- the two of them were practically Shakespearean.“

Without moving a muscle, the frown on Yakov’s face crawls even deeper, “I don’t recall.” 

“Oh, Yakov, one day you’ll help me in this. Otabek, tell us honestly-“ Victor tilts his head to the side, face open and ready, “Was that a challenge or was it a confession?”

Otabek turns to Yuri doing long frustrated loose rotations on the other end of the rink while mumbling expletives to himself, “Both,” He smiles when Yuri catches his gaze, “Mainly I wanted to impress him. Although I think I may have only embarrassed myself instead...“

Yuri’s cheeks go red as he skates past, refusing to look at him and biting behind his lip. Victor makes a choked out sound, slumping against the rink edge.  
“ _My god, Yura_ -“ Victor shakes his head, “If you don’t marry him, we will.”

“Victor!”, “ _Vitya_ -“, “Give me your jacket, I’m gonna make my cats shit in it-“

...  


**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 14 (4 Days Left)**

...  


“I could carry you...“

They’ve been drinking. 

“You think so?” Otabek leans his head back on the edge of the couch mirroring him. The forgotten tv show they put on after dinner still playing in front of them. Yuri had suggested they take shots every time one of the actors looked constipated.  
Otabek never realized how frequently actors look constipated.  
It’s a lot.  
Otabek is pretty sure he was drunk within the first twenty minutes. 

Yuri’s brows knit, “Yeah! Fuck yeah!” He looks like he’s doing the math, “I lift shit. I could lift you. You think you could lift me?”

Otabek laughs, “Yeah.”

Yuri opens his mouth, insulted, “Oooooh- so obvious huh? You could lift me- _duh_ but if it’s me lifting you-“ Otabek laughs harder. “I could fucking lift you. Just cause I don’t look like I should be in some _fucking_ -“

Otabek waits. Eyebrows raised. Yuri’s drunk state is nearly the same as his sober state except his volume is the smallest hint louder and sometimes his words come out-

“-one of those movies...-“

Otabek sits patiently. 

“-that have like-“

 _Waiting_.

“-cargo pants- and-“

He’s not done. Still waiting. 

“- they’re all in a jungle or some...shit.”

-slower. Yuri’s words sometimes come out slower.

“That’s-“ Otabek blinks in amazement, “the name of it- the training program I’m on.“

Otabek isn’t sure what his own drunk state is. He doesn’t notice much difference. But his sister once admitted to preferring him drunk. She said it after an uncomfortable dinner where Otabek displayed an out-of-character response by telling off some of their less than favorable uncles after hearing them spew nonsense for most of the evening. They stopped after that.

“What? You’re on the ‘Look-like-someone-who-could-be-in-one-of-those-fucking-movies-that-have-cargo-pants-and-everyone-is-in-a-jungle-or-some-shit Program’?”

Otabek nods, sitting up to pour them both another shot. “That’s it.”

Yuri shakes his head, “Well that’s a shit program cause you don’t even look like that-“ he flops sideways down on the couch. “Especially cause you still have a neck-“

“You _just_ said-“

“ _I know_! Okay? I was wrong!” Yuri comes back up and takes the shot glass off the table. “You look like- you’re on the-“

Otabek stills, waiting again, face perfectly content. 

“-Hot...”

“Mm.”

“-Program.”

Otabek nods, faking his recollection, “I went to my coach-“

“Yeah...”

“Said, ‘I heard about this new Hot Program’-“

Yuri leans back, crossing his arms behind his head, face flushed, “Yeah...”

“I told him, I said, ‘That’s the one. Put me on it.’”

Yuri nods, “Yeah and he was like, ‘Okay, here’s your yoga mat, some sandpaper for your jaw and this bucket of protein powder‘“ He sets the empty shot glass back down. “And it’s like fucking fairy dust _voila_ \- You’re hot.”

Otabek is trying to hold back from laughing at his own joke before he tells it, “Do _uh_ \- do they have you on the ‘Man-in-Renaissance-Painting Program’ then?”

Yuri gapes at him.  
“What’d you just fucking say?”

“Your training program- is it titled, ‘Man-in-a-Renaissance-Painting Program’?” Otabek has never been so pleased with himself. He slumps pleasantly into the couch, “And to achieve it do _uh_ \- do you have to sit in meadows with bowls of fruit all around?” 

“Oh my god.”

“Or no. Perhaps someone brings out a bible and will choose a random page and then whatever story it lands on that’s the pose you hold for the day?”

Yuri squints at him and points a finger at his face, “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. Mine was a _compliment_ -“

“So was mine!”

“You just said I look like one of those guys whose being tortured while wearing a sheet and there’s like- a lamb behind me!”

“Yuri!” Otabek reaches for him, “Yes!”

“No! That’s not the same as being called hot!”

“It’s better!”

“How?!”

“You’re so beautiful, Yuri, they put you in museums!” 

“No. Nasty- nasty old boring shit- no!“

Otabek knocks his shot glass back and sets it on the table. 

Yuri stands. “Okay, get up-”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna carry you. I might be some sad dude laid out on a rock but I’m ripped as shit- so get up!“ 

Otabek stands, his mouth permanently stretched. 

“Okay put-“ Yuri starts laughing, and Otabek follows. “ _Shhhhh_ \- shut up. Okay- put your arm over- _yeah_ -“

Otabek adjusts his stance, his arm wrapped over Yuri’s head and across his shoulders. 

“I’m gonna bend down-“ Yuri mumbles lowering himself. 

“Makes sense-“

“And I’m gonna drop you on the fucking table if you don’t shut your hot mouth-“

“Well... You might do that anyway-“  
Yuri stands back up. Eyes wide and insulted. Otabek stays smiling, keeping his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “ _Yuri_ \- that’s the face they make in those painti-“

Yuri glares and bends down to scoop Otabek’s legs up. Otabek makes a choked sound and lets whatever happen-  
_Happen_  
Yuri has him comfortably cradled in his arms.

“ **Heeeeeeey!** ”  
They cheer it out happily. 

Yuri stands there. Proud. Swiveling his body left and right. Looking around. “Hell yeah. It’s so fucking easy!-”

“ _Soo easy_ -“ Otabek echoes, nestling into him. 

“When was the last time someone carried you, Otabek? When you were 4?” Yuri says it while starting to walk around the living room. His arms steady, keeping Otabek cradled to his chest. 

“Last year.”

“What? Are you serious?” Yuri looks disappointed then his eyes narrow to slits, “No. I swear, if that fucking lawyer-“

“JJ.”

Yuri scowls like that’s even worse, stopping in place. Otabek catches their reflection in the glass windows and hums, holding back more laughter from the image of Yuri looking like he might murder someone while holding Otabek like a precious baby animal being saved from a wreckage. 

“ _JJ_ -“ Yuri burns into his face, “Is _never_ allowed to carry you-“

“Yes. I said the same thing.”

“You know what I’m gonna fucking do?”

“Hm?” Otabek settles in. 

“I’m gonna-“

He rests his head on Yuri’s shoulder. 

“-fucking... _shave_ -“

“Shave...”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shave those dumbass eyebrows off.”  
Yuri catches himself in the window, tilting his head to the side, “You know... I could do this for like- a _mad long time_. Serious.” He states it for himself, “Why haven’t we just _always_ done this?”

“You mean go to practice like this?“

“Yeah.“

“To press conferences?“

“Yeah.“

“When it’s our turn to perform?“

“Yeah.“

“We should,” Otabek nuzzles into his neck, “ _You’re so strong, Yuri_ -“ Otabek purrs low to him. 

“ _Fuck yeah_...“ Yuri turns and leans his head in to kiss him. “I’m like a-“

Otabek grins against his mouth. Waiting. 

“- like one of those-“

Otabek nips his bottom lip. Still waiting. 

“- like a brave-”

He kisses Yuri’s cheek. It doesn’t matter, he’ll wait forever. 

“... _knight_.”

“Mm.” Otabek nods understandingly, “Brave knight.”

“Yeah... Brave knight-“ Yuri gives him a cocky grin and peeks his tongue between his teeth before kissing him again. 

“Yuri-“ Otabek coos, “I want to carry you-“

Yuri sighs, “Okay well-“ he gently places Otabek’s legs back on the floor, “‘ _Don’t go and drop me you weak sack of shit_ ’ or whatever it is you said to me-“

Otabek beams, shaking his head as Yuri wraps an arm over his head, “Ready?”

Yuri nods, pink blooming in his cheeks.

Swiftly, Otabek lifts Yuri’s legs up, supporting his back and cradling him close to his chest. 

“ **Heeeeeey!** ”  
They exclaim it again, letting it fill the apartment.

“Another shot!” Yuri opens his arm out staring at the bottle of gin on the coffee table and their two empty shot glasses.  
Otabek agrees, carrying him over then dipping him down so Yuri can pick up the bottle- “Fuck it. We’ll just drink from this. Drink a shot amount. So like-“

Otabek laughs watching him think. 

“-2... yeah, 2 seconds worth?”

“Perfect.”

“Mm.” Yuri takes a long swallow of gin that’s definitely more than 2 seconds then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You-“

Otabek focuses on the bottle as Yuri tips it to his mouth, swallowing only when Yuri brings it back. He stills, their eyes locking.  
“ _Mm_ , yes-“ Otabek leans in when he says it, joining their lips- their gin coated tongues tangling. 

Yuri makes a pleased sound, his thumb stroking down the back of Otabek’s neck. “ _You’re so fucking strong, Otabek_ -“ he smiles, satisfied, “Oh!” His eyes are wide, “Wait. What if we added a cat?”

“Yuri-“ Otabek pulls back, face serious, “Find one.”

“Baba-“ Yuri sing songs it, leaning his head back, “You do it. She’s obsessed with you. Potya will know to stay far the fuck away from us-“

“Baba-“ Otabek spins them, trying to spot her. They hear a quiet mew and both look down at the floor. 

“Told you.”

Otabek carries Yuri over to the kitchen, Baba Yaga following closely behind. Yuri already knowing to flutter his fingers on the kitchen island as soon as he meets it, “Baba- here.”

Baba Yaga jumps up, bowing her soft head to Yuri’s fingertips. “Ha!” Yuri reaches and brings her to his chest. 

“ **Heeeeeey**!”  
They cheer it again, Otabek successfully carrying Yuri and Baba Yaga in his arms. 

“What time is it?” Yuri twists his head to read the stove. “1? _How_? How much did we drink?” His eyes linger on the other empty bottle of gin by the sink. Baba Yaga purrs as Yuri absently scratches between her ears “Who cares! Don’t answer!”

Otabek grins, dropping them back to the living room. Yuri stretching high when his feet touch the ground. They pass the bottle again and Otabek marvels at the amount Yuri can guzzle down without looking the least bit effected. 

Yuri squints, a thought crossing him, “Why do I remember...” he points the bottle at him, “why do I remember seeing a photo of you carrying someone?- _yeah_... that’s right... Like a year or something ago...”

Otabek squints back, completely blank-

“It was-“ Yuri stares off into the distance, mindlessly loosening his jaw as he recollects, “An old lady. You were carrying an old lady some night during...  
What’s the- the Four Conferences?-“

“Continents.”

“Four Continents, yeah. Otabek-“ Yuri shakes his head like dog that just came out of the rain, “Why were you carrying some old lady at the Four Continentals?”

“Continents.”

“Contaminants.”

“Continents.”

“Cont...“

Otabek nods, encouraging him along, “- _in_ -“

“-in...“

“- _ents_.“

“-ents. Four Constantinoples.”

Otabek has no idea how he ended there, “No. _That’s_ \- that’s a fallen city of the Roman Empire, Yuri-“

“Oh... no shit?” 

“Yes.” Otabek smiles, amazed he knows anything right now, “A few other empires too.”

“Byzantine and Ottoman.”

“Yuri!”

“What?”

“You know what Constantinople is!”

“What the hell is that?”

“You just said it!”

“Well- remind me tomorrow cause I don’t remember _anything_ I’ve said tonight-“ 

“You said ‘Constantinople’.“

“Constant-“

“Yes...”

“-antelope.”

“No.”

“Consequential-al.“

“No-“

“Constitutional-“

“-How are you saying near perfect words except the word you just said?”

“Condiments-al.“

“Yuri-“

“What were we talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

Yuri stares at him, mouth part way open, face blank. He sees Baba Yaga snake through Otabek’s legs. “Old lady.”

“ _Ah_ -”

He points a finger at Otabek’s chest, “You were carrying an old lady at the Fourteen Continents!”

“Four.”

“ _Four_!”

Otabek rubs a hand over his face, faintly remembering, “ _That was_ \- it was someone’s mother-“ he sighs it out, his shoulders rounding as he grabs the bottle back. 

“Someone’s mother?”

“Mm,” he takes a swig, “a fan. She told someone on my team that her mother travelled all the way just to see me then asked if I’d pick her up for a photo.”

Yuri stares at him, nose wrinkling, “Ew.”

Otabek laughs, coughing on the burning alcohol still passing down his throat. 

“No really- how do you do that? You shouldn’t.”

“Yuri, she was a very nice quiet old woman. She didn’t mean any harm-“

“Nope- You don’t know where she’s been-“

Otabek arches a brow, eyes challenging him, “Okay. Let’s hear it. Where could she have been Yuri?”

“... The _fucking_ -“

“Mm.”

“- like...”

Otabek shares a glance with Baba Yaga before looking back up.

“- secret science lab.”

“A ‘ _secret science lab_ ’?”

“Yeah. Where they dissect weirdass rats or some shit. _I don’t know_! You know one time a fan asked me if I’d take a drink out of their water bottle?”

Otabek cringes. 

“Yeah! Shit_is_gross!” Yuri swipes the bottle from him, taking another swig. 

Otabek crosses his arms, “Have you _ever_ enjoyed your fans, Yuri?“

“Sure. When they leave me alone,” Yuri grumbles it out dropping the bottle back on the coffee table. “ **Oh!** -“ 

Otabek raises his brows. 

“Oh my god-“ Yuri bursts out laughing.  
Not just laughing. Laughing so hard and so suddenly he bends over, arm holding his stomach, practically convulsing. Trying to get the words out- “ _Oh shit_. Okay. There was this-“  
His laughter fills the whole apartment. Otabek has never loved anything this much-  
“ _Oh goddddd_ -“ Yuri stands up, eyes tearing- he wipes at his cheeks, trying to quiet himself, shoulders shaking. He takes a deep breath, “Okay, there was this one time-“ the pitch in his voice goes up until he has to stop and collect himself again.  
“It was me- a couple other people and Yuuri- we were on our way somewhere, I don’t fucking remember, but somehow a fan sneaked into the building and-“ he buries his face into his hands. Otabek laughs simply from watching him and the sheer anticipation.  
“She came running down the hall-“ he’s trying to find a way to keep standing, Otabek offers himself and Yuri nods, swallowing and bracing on his shoulder, “We didn’t see her or anything, we were all walking and talking- and she just like- appeared out of _fucking nowhere_ and-“ Yuri’s voice strains, “she started screaming so fucking loud that-“ he grips harder into Otabek’s arm, eyes tearing, “ _Yuuri_ -“ he lowers his head on Otabek’s shoulder, “He got so freaked out he farted.”

Otabek bows his head, laughter bubbling up, matching Yuri’s.  
He grips into Yuri’s arm, his face hurting, “Did anyone say anything?”

Yuri shakes his head, crying, “No! No one said _anything_!- _oh my god_ \- we all stood there frozen cause he’d farted _so_ loud-” He runs a hand through his hair, “Oh fucking Jesus-“ they both try to catch their breaths. “Anyway. I liked that one.”  
Yuri cradles Otabek’s face with both hands, smiling exhausted “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I’ve been holding that shit in since it happened-“

Otabek nods holding his wrists. “Yeah.”  
They’re still laughing. Letting it die out naturally.

Yuri goes to grab the bottle again but freezes, staring at the rug under the coffee table. “Otabek. Did you fucking vacuum?”

Otabek nods cheerfully, wiping at his eyes , “Most days you’re not here I vacuum.”

Yuri shifts, crossing his arms, eyes narrowed in the rug, “You’re cleaner than me...”

“You cook better than me.”

“I don’t know that- you’ve never cooked-“

“You’re welcome.“

“Otabek!” Yuri makes a sharp turn to face him and a points a finger at his chest, “You! You do too much shit! I can clean my own place- I’m the only rich asshole in this building who doesn’t have a fucking cleaning crew, I don’t want to feel like I hired one anyway-“

“It’s for me.” Otabek pulls him in, voice serious but eyes adoring. 

Yuri relaxes into his hold, considering something, “Mm.” His arms snake around Otabek’s neck, “So when you move in-“

Otabek hitches a breath, imagining it. 

“I’ll cook? _And_ -“ Yuri smiles, Otabek’s heart floating clean up his throat, “You’ll clean?”

“Mm.”  
Someday there would be day without a departure date- and Otabek would clean, and Yuri would cook, and they would... be here, always here, sober or drunk, having sex or wrapped around each other on the couch, lingering in the kitchen... he squeezes Yuri tighter. 

“Who the shit does laundry?”

Otabek sighs happily, “I do.”

“No. Hold on-” 

“It’s cleaning. I clean.” It’s very obvious for Otabek. 

“No!” Yuri struggles but successfully pulls back, “We should switch laundry.”

“I’ll do laundry.”

“Well, I do the litter box-“

“No. That’s also cleaning-“

“Otabek! Stop! That’s too much! You do too much!”

Otabek smiles at him and kisses his nose. “I clean.”

Yuri frowns. “I feed the cats.”

Otabek laughs, “I’ll be home more, Yuri. I’m feeding the cats.”

“No! I cook, right? So feeding them is like... meal prep.” Yuri holds the bottom of Otabek’s chin so it stays on his face, “I_feed_the_cats.”

Drunk and losing himself in the color of Yuri’s eyes, Otabek relents, “Mm.”

“And bills. I do the fucking bills-“

Otabek frowns, “ _Oh_ \- No, Yuri.”

“Yes! It’s my apartment! Why the fuck would you do them?”

It’s all too fuzzy for him to think too deeply or in specifics but Otabek knows-  
“I will do some of them. You shouldn’t have to do all of them-“

“You’re already doing everything!”

“Mm.”

Yuri goes to pinch his nipple but Otabek grabs his wrist with a warning look. He lingers on Otabek’s jaw, his mouth parting, his gaze deepening.  
“Otabek-“  
It fills the air so fast between them.  
“I wish we weren’t so drunk so we could-”

“I know.” Otabek empathizes. 

Yuri breathes out and digs his fingertips down Otabek’s back, “I always want you to fuck me-“

Otabek swallows and closes his eyes, “I know.”

“You _kill me_ \- on the rink yesterday and today-“ Yuri leans in, “You’re going to _fucking kill me_ -“ 

It’s a testament to just how much they’ve been drinking that despite the way their mouths devour each other it does very little to the space between their legs.  


Yuri stops kissing him, eyes widening on something over Otabek’s shoulder. He points to the tv excitedly, “Ha!”

Otabek turns, “Oh. Me.” 

Yuri hurriedly grabs the remote and scrambles over closer to the screen. Eyes drinking in the opening of the ad where Otabek’s lifting off into a triple axel under overly dramatic black and white lighting, every bead of sweat clear and illuminated. 

Yuri’s face looks like it’s surrendering to being pulled under a current, “ _Shit_...”

Flashes of Otabek’s face, his jaw, his eyes, his profile staring ahead- his naked torso as he runs a hand through his hair- his back flexed as he ‘stretches’.  
He feels his cheeks warm. It’s all really rather ridiculous.

Yuri watches with his mouth halfway open. “Otabek, how do you even get those?”

“Hm?”

“Those-“ Yuri pauses it, pointing at the muscles over Otabek’s shoulder blades. “Where do those come from? Don’t say yoga!”

Otabek furrows his brow, his shoulders twitching. He looks up, rolling them, trying to pin point where- “Mm. Rowing.”

“Rowing?”

“Yes. Rowing machine.”

“Rad. I’m buying one.”

Otabek laughs. “You have them too, Yuri-“

“Uh huh. Not like that.”

Otabek walks over and kisses the nape of his neck, “I love your back, Yuri- so much I’ve even-“  
He stops. _God_ , he is drunk after all. 

Yuri twists around, scrutinizing him, “What?”

Otabek shakes his head, soft smile to the floor. “Nothing.”

Yuri frowns dragging himself over to the coach and dropping down, “Hate it when you do that.” His bottom lip now in the first phase of a late night pout. 

Otabek bites behind his own.  
_It’s_ -  
Alright.  
Otabek goes to him. Taking a long inhale then settling himself down, straddling Yuri’s lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders.  
“ _Yuri_ -“

Yuri halts the minute Otabek sits over him. It’s a simple switching of positions to the one they find themselves in frequently but... Otabek can feel it. It’s in Yuri’s whole body. A stark tension. Like something dangerous just showed itself.  
Otabek doesn’t care- he wants to- he’s always wanted to- he kisses him, parting Yuri’s lips...  
The tension slowly dissipates- Yuri exhales into Otabek’s mouth, his hands sliding down and pressing Otabek’s back- _kneading lower_ \- until they fill with the curve of Otabek’s ass. 

“I really do love your back, Yuri-“ Otabek trails his fingers down Yuri’s sides, “I was going to confess that I’ve come... imagining it over me- _with you inside_...“  
Otabek rolls into him, rolls into Yuri’s hands that are gripping into his ass, into Yuri’s lap, into the space between Yuri’s legs- _he’s never_...  
Only Yuri.  
Only Yuri ever sparked it-  
Yuri makes a strained sound- like he’s pushing back on something he doesn’t want to let out.  
His body fighting whatever’s inside. 

“ _Otabek_ -“ Yuri clenches his jaw, desire trickling out of him, his hands burying themselves down the back of Otabek’s pants, clawing into the flesh and leading the pace of Otabek’s hips rolling into him.

Otabek groans, imagining Yuri guiding Otabek over himself, pushing up... watching Yuri fall apart on his release- his gaze piercing and hot, burning into Otabek’s face, all from the feeling of being inside him- _from pumping into him_ -  
“I want to take you, Yuri-“ Otabek breathes it out husky and low, sliding against him, his back instinctively arching.  
_He’s never_ -  
Otabek’s body has never done that before. 

Yuri stills, bringing his hands out and settling them on Otabek’s hips. He keeps his eyes down, swallowing and then nods. 

Otabek’s softens, “God, I do love you,” He murmurs it before kissing him and Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and kisses back harder, pulling him in closer. His tongue clinging to Otabek’s like it was being pulled back into a void it didn’t want to be sunk into. 

Reluctantly, Otabek stops them to breathe, but keeps their foreheads touching. Eyes open, Otabek bites behind his lip, breathless and smiling, “Adidas never had you shirtless...“

Yuri huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Nope.”

Otabek looks down at the shirt covering Yuri’s chest, “I would buy magazines I knew you’d be in.”

Yuri’s flush deepens, “Really?”

Otabek nods, brushing Yuri’s hair back, “I’d buy them so I could look at you-“ His fingers trace down, lingering on Yuri’s upper abdomen, “You did _uh_ -“ he wishes his brain wasn’t so fogged, “It was an editorial- there were some shots of you where you didn’t have a shirt- it had your chest and then there was another of your back-“

Yuri’s eyes flicker despite alcohol clouding his senses, he runs a hand up Otabek’s shirt, “Did you touch yourself?”

 _A lot_.  
“Yes.”

“Did you keep them in the same folder as the cologne ad?”

 _And all the others_.  
“Yes.”

“So you’d open the magazine up or go to your phone _and_..?.“

“Look at you- I’d look at you and _I_ -“ Otabek’s hips reflexively press in, “ _God_ \- We hadn’t even kissed and I’d get so hard from it- all from looking at you-“

Yuri looks at Otabek like he just turned into Yuri’s own personal fireworks display, “Fuck, Otabek. You should talk like this more-“

Otabek nods, “I’ll try,” he smiles, “I’m trying.”

That does something- Yuri pushes Otabek’s shirt up, and then latches his mouth onto Otabek’s nipple, Yuri’s other hand holding Otabek close.  
It feels like the wind got knocked out him. The room spins fast. Otabek chokes on a breath, looking down and brushing Yuri’s hair back. Desperately trying to catch up.  
Yuri’s tongue twists over as he sucks- confident and knowing. Increasing the pressure-  
Otabek closes his eyes, “ _Ah_ -”

Yuri hums pleased, releasing him and pulling Otabek’s shirt back down, leaving one last kiss over the fabric covering the nipple he nearly just sucked clean off Otabek’s body.  
“You know Adidas _did_ have me shirtless at one point?”

Otabek slumps, eyebrows angled down. 

“Yeah,” Yuri smiles at his reaction, “Some seasonal campaign. Shot it and everything-“ he shrugs, “They scraped it.”

Otabek eyes sink into disappointment, “Why would they do this?”

Yuri laughs, leaning his head back against the couch edge. He groans, “ _Ugh_ , they said- _god dammit_ \- they said it didn’t feel on brand. That it looked-“  
He looks away like the words are being forcibly removed from him, “they said all the shots looked like something from the fucking renaissance-“

Otabek grips into his shoulders, a giant smile spreading across his face, “Yuri!”

“Okay, fuck off-”

“Yuri!”

“No!”

Otabek tumbles sideways on the couch with him, hovering over, pressing his face into his cheek. “Yuri!”

“Go away!”

Otabek laughs uncontrollably over Yuri’s groaning, “I told you-“ he sighs, “You’re so beautiful, Yuri, the museums want to keep you in them...“

Yuri glares, darting his eyes to look at him. “Otabek,” his hardened glare turning into an playful smirk, “Will you teach me a yoga move?”

“A yog-“

“Fuck yeah. Come on-“ Yuri pushes up, grabbing the almost finished bottle of gin. “Take me to your mat.” He turns around when he reaches the staircase. “Seriously. I wanna learn.”

Otabek gets up, eyes swimming over Yuri’s body as he walks over.

Yuri follows him down the stairs, both of them laughing at their increased dependency on the railing.

When Otabek unfurls his mat, Yuri sits on the floor in front of him. Bottle still in hand. Waiting. Lip pout at phase 2. 

“Did you have something in mind?” Otabek folds his knees under him and sits. Head spinning. Not entirely sure just what he’d be able to do exactly... Drunk yoga wasn’t something he can say he’s ever tried before-

Yuri shakes his head, sitting patient and taking a swig from the bottle. “Fucking anything. Make it cool.”

“Mm.” Otabek does this move enough he shouldn’t have too much issue... he does a few wrist stretches then rotates his arms in, his palms flat between his spread knees. He takes a deep breath, feeling Yuri’s eyes burning into him, then lowers his torso down, his spine curving, and very slowly, while supporting his entire upper half through his arms and the strength of his core- he extends his legs out from under him- until his whole bottom half is floating up off the floor- face dipped, nearly touching the mat.  
He holds it. Breathing easy. The familiar shake threatening to run through him. 

“ _Fuck yeah_.” Yuri breathes out, eyes sleepy but sparkling against the night sky backdropped out the window behind him. 

Otabek brings himself down, fully releasing the pose. Yuri holds the bottle out, offering him the last bit of gin. Otabek accepts, finishing it off. 

Yuri smiles- face softening, eyelids heavier every minute. He crawls over, pulling Otabek down, both of them laying on the mat, bodies close and facing each other. “Will you teach me that?”

Otabek tucks Yuri’s hair behind his ear, “Yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

They smile. And Otabek nods, “Tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Yuri struggles against his heavy eyelids but is losing fast.  
Otabek likes this part the most of every night- he leans in and kisses Yuri’s face- kissing it everywhere- sometimes pausing and keeping his lips pressed into one part before moving on. Yuri let’s him, too tired to squirm or wriggle out. Let’s him, smiling contently until-  
His breath slows- becoming even- his face peaceful and then finally-  
_There_.  
Asleep. 

Otabek pulls back, looking at him like he still can’t believe-  
He brushes the hair close to Yuri’s temple. “ _I love you, Yuri_.” He plants one more kiss on Yuri’s shoulder. And despite Otabek knowing they really shouldn’t stay here, he can’t seem to get himself up let alone climb the stairs- he resolves to let them stay, sinking into the floor with him. His eyelids shutting-  
he’ll sleep-  
_just until_ -  
he just needs sleep a bit of this drunkenness off...

...  


It’s still dark out.

Thankfully.  
Otabek stirs, squinting against his headache, the kink in his neck reminding him where he is. Yuri still sleeping soundly next to him.  
Using the part of his brain meant for survival, Otabek manages to push up, very much still asleep and very much still drunk.  
_The bed_.  
They just need to get to the bed.  
If Otabek wasn’t still inebriated he’d carry him but he doesn’t want to risk it with the stairs.  
He leans down and kisses Yuri’s forehead, “Yuri-“ 

Yuri moans, twisting his head into the mat. 

“I know-“ Otabek soothes in his ear, “Let’s get to the bed.” He sits up, interlacing their fingers and giving a tug. “Come-“

Yuri’s bottom lip is set so far out Otabek could set a book on it. No words come from him, only grumpy displeased sounds. Nonetheless Yuri lets Otabek pull him up and then braces against him until they’re both standing. 

Otabek keeps him close, climbing the steps and leading them to the bed. Once Yuri realizes where he is he tumbles straight down and lets out a long sigh- stretching out, and rolling onto his back, his head melting into the pillow behind him. Eyes closed- breath already evening out.  
Otabek crawls down but settles in lower. Too tired to move anymore but happy to wrap his arm over Yuri’s middle and rest his head against the curve of his waist- legs folded slightly under him.  
_Mm_  
This  
This was perfect.

...  


**=======**


	27. Part IV: 8. Thawing

* * *

**Around 4 Years Ago**

**Saitama, Japan**

“It sucks.”  
Yuri watches the rock he just threw into the water hop across the surface before sinking under. Circular waves spreading out from the invisible pads it bounced across. “I told you, didn’t I? Victor retires and everyone starts crapping all over themselves.”

The sun beams down triumphantly, attempting to raise moral after the harsh months of winter. Inciting life over the bare trees standing tall and bleak along the other side of the river.

Otabek launches a rock in after him. It easily skips past where Yuri’s sunk.  
Yuri looks back at him. “It’s not fair. You get more time to skip rocks than I do.“

Otabek smiles with a shrug, “Maybe.” He skips another one- Yuri narrows in on the way Otabek’s wrist snaps, the motion of his arm- the slight twist in his waist when he lets it go. Brow furrowed, Yuri looks down and scans the ground for another. 

“Here-“ 

Yuri looks up in time to catch the rock Otabek just threw him. Mindlessly he rubs his thumb over the smooth flat surface while looking out over the water. He tosses it up, catching it with one hand, then seamlessly, Yuri transitions into instilling the exact movements he just saw Otabek do- bends his wrist and uses his forearm to flick it back- twists his waist just enough-

It skips further than both of theirs. 

He smirks and looks back over his shoulder. Otabek gives a nod, his eyebrows higher than before, eyes focused on the spot Yuri’s stone last bounced. 

“Guess I don-“

Otabek launches another in- it _easily_ speeds past the one Yuri just threw.

Yuri closes his mouth and scowls at the water. Like it purposefully bounced Otabek’s stone further than his to prove something.  
Not that Yuri cares.  
He doesn’t.  
It’s just throwing rocks in water.  
And just cause he doesn’t want to do this anymore doesn’t mean he cares either. 

Yuri turns around, walking a couple paces back and drops down on the grass. Otabek stays where he is. Still tossing the rest of his in.  
Yuri leans over his bent knees, watching. A small tension forming in the space above his eyes.  
He glares, blaming it on the sun and it’s need to tower above them so obnoxiously. As if they could fucking miss it- It’s the fucking sun. 

Otabek throws in his last one with a noticeable extra punch of power in his arm.  
Yuri feels it. He hates that he feels it.  
_It’s stupid_.  
Yuri’s stupid.  
He takes his glare to the ground and bites behind his lip. That full body wave of tiredness is washing over him. His blood is changing, clogging itself into thick dense mud. Yuri often wonders what someone would see if they opened him up- would they see all the expected organs and bones or hardened sludge mixed with some sort of radioactive toxic waste?  
Probably the latter.  
_Must be the latter_. 

Otabek steps backwards, stuffing his hands into his pockets then turning around and casually walking over to where Yuri is sitting.  
Yuri keeps his gaze down, staring at the grass. When Otabek takes a seat about a foot away from him, Yuri inadvertently swallows. They sit side by side, Otabek’s knees are up too, arms leaning forward, eyes on the water. Still. Always still. Always focused and still.  
The worst thing Yuri could do is stay looking at him from where he is.  
It’s seriously the _worst fucking thing_.  
Especially not when Otabek is outside. Under the sun. Looking relaxed and away. 

Yuri flops back and squints up into the sky.  
“Mila thinks your hot.” Yuri says it blankly, fixing his eyes on Otabek’s back, studying for a reaction. It’d be pointless trying to gage one from Otabek’s face since Yuri didn’t bring his fucking magnifying glass with him. But maybe Otabek’s back will- breathe different or... _something_...

“Mm.” Otabek doesn’t move.

The mud is seeping into Yuri’s eyelids, making them heavy, “Do you think she’s hot?”

Quiet. No movement.  
“Sure.”

Yuri looks away, “Cool,” he says it with a dead tone. “Do you think you’re gonna ask her out now?” A vein in his forehead pulses with every beat of his heart. 

Otabek’s back expands on a deep inhale. “I don’t know.”

Yuri doesn’t like him.  
He doesn’t.  
Not right now.  
Yuri wants to push Otabek. Jam an elbow into his shoulder blade, push him to the ground and walk away. 

This is why Yuri knows he’s made of sludge. Disgusting parasitic sludge. 

It’s a secret.  
But what no one on the outside knows is that they duct tape Yuri together, cover all the leaks and paint them over, just long enough for when the cameras are rolling then as soon they turn off, big heavy drops splatter to the ground.  
It’s okay though.  
It works.  
They always manage to wheel him out before anyone sees. 

“I had 2 hours of media training the other day.” Yuri glowers at the sky. “Do they put you through that shit too?”

“Not in awhile,” Otabek does a half turn over his shoulder, then goes back, “I did a couple though, I think a year or two ago.”

“It’s bullshit. They’re making me do it like every week.”

Otabek glances back again, brows knit. “Seems excessive.”

Yuri doesn’t like him.  
He glares, “Yeah.” Yuri pierces into the impossibly short hairs at the nape of Otabek’s neck, “I guess it is. Must be nice to be someone who never has anything interesting to fucking say- a lot less shit for everyone to worry about huh? More time to practice throwing rocks into a pond.”  
It leaves Yuri’s mouth like a poison. He can practically see the disgusting green gas float out in front of his lips. 

Otabek doesn’t say anything.  
But his head tilts down.  
Yuri can still make out the way the sun shines over the perfectly carved lines of his face. 

It feels bad.  
Yuri is bad.  
He is actual human shit. Disgusting human shit packed into the skin of a person. 

Yuri doesn’t like Otabek.  
Yuri can’t fucking stand him.  
Yuri wants to push him to the ground and never look back.  
Otabek doesn’t say anything.  
Otabek doesn’t swear.  
Doesn’t call out stupid shit.  
Doesn’t get angry.  
Doesn’t get horny.  
Doesn’t get nervous.  
Doesn’t ask Mila out.  
Doesn’t ask anyone yet.  
Doesn’t turn to Yuri and lean down and just _fucking kiss him_. Hold Yuri’s face and kiss him. Bite into Yuri’s lip. Grip into Yuri’s hips and _press into him_ -  
Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath. The tension exploding at the front of his brain.  
_Fuck_  
_No_  
Not here-

_Never here_

When he has to inhale, Yuri opens his eyes to the same spot on Otabek’s jacket.  
He wants to put his mouth on it.  
He doesn’t even know what that means.  
What the fuck does that mean  
But Yuri wants to lean into him, wrap his arms around Otabek’s middle like when they’re on his bike, and press his lips into Otabek’s back. Press his lips into the same spot he so angrily wants to jam his elbow into and push to the ground.  
He would  
He wants to  
He wants to do it knowing Otabek would let him  
Knowing Otabek wouldn’t run away  
Wouldn’t twist out from Yuri’s arms and look back at him in horror. Panic and disgust taking over Otabek’s face- from all the shit leaking from Yuri’s body and face. Now sticking to him. 

Otabek’s head comes back up, “I’ll be by the bike.” He stands, not looking at him, “We’ll head back whenever you’re ready.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, Otabek walks off. Leaving him. 

Yuri doesn’t move.  
He squeezes his eyes shut and holds back the sound clawing up his throat.  
He wonders if the sun would ever help him if he asked it to. Maybe the sun could melt all the sludge inside of him, melt it till it spills out from all the holes in his body and that space between his skin and fingernails- let it run out from him, hot and loose. Then when it pooled all around him maybe the sun would dry it all up before it could soak back in. Then Yuri could stand up without feeling so heavy. Then Yuri might not be so disgusting. Be a person. A _real_ person.  
A person who Otabek would notice.  
A person who could offer Otabek something. _Anything_. Something Otabek would want.  
Then Yuri wouldn’t have to be alone. He could have Otabek. And Otabek would feel happy to have him too. The way other people have each other.

Yuri points his gaze directly at the sun so he can make a plea but it just flashes back in his eyes, blinding them closed. The headache he had now pounding in his skull.

...  


When Yuri gets back to his hotel room, he takes an overlong shower. His skin pruning and pores wide the fuck open by the time he steps out and sees Otabek texted him. Dread fills him as he unlocks his phone to read it. 

| We could go here next time. Looks bigger

It’s a link to a different park than the one they went to today. 

Blankly, Yuri stares at the screen, leaving the text thread. He goes to delete it but when the pop up asks him if he’s sure, he-  
Can’t.  
He hits Cancel. 

Otabek is good. _He’s_ \- a good person. A better person. He’s not like Yuri-  
There’s no mud inside Otabek.  
Otabek doesn’t need to go to media training every week. Doesn’t need to be molded and patched up all the time. Doesn’t say _unpleasant_ things.  
Otabek doesn’t swear.  
Doesn’t get angry.  
Doesn’t get nervous.  
Doesn’t get horny.  
Doesn’t talk to Yuri like he’s sewage  
Doesn’t talk to anyone like they’re sewage

Otabek is kind  
Kind to him. To Yuri.  
And Yuri’s so fucking toxic he found a way to twist Otabek’s kindness into something disgusting. Yuri had one fucking friend and he turned it into shit. Friends don’t- they don’t feel the things Yuri feels when he sees Otabek in the sun. Friends don’t get angry the way Yuri gets angry when he has to keep himself from wrapping his arms around Otabek’s waist and pressing his lips into his jacket. A friend wouldn’t insult their friend the way Yuri did just because Otabek doesn’t want to turn around and kiss him in the grass.  
_Seriously_.  
For fuck’s sake-  
So no.  
Otabek doesn’t deserve to be caught up in any cloud of poison that spews from Yuri’s mouth. Yuri is stupid and selfish and he’s fine spitting acid at everyone else but-  
_Not him_.  
Never Otabek. 

Yuri stays staring at the text thread.  
A growing crowd of overlapping voices and words from his last media training, from news reports, from online comments, from his management, all echoing louder and louder through his head, cementing him to be exactly what he was.  
It makes him cry.  
They don’t know this but... they mine as well all just be saying how Yuri will never have him. Never be good enough. Not for him.  
It’s the same. It’s the same fucking meaning. 

Yuri loves him.  
Yuri loves Otabek. 

So if he can’t delete it, he should at least keep himself from replying. Otherwise Otabek’s kindness will just keep inviting Yuri to hurt him.  
And Yuri loves him. So if Yuri can’t be Otabek’s friend the least he can do is protect him. And maybe one day Yuri will tell him- After Yuri retires and has nothing to lose because there isn’t anything left for him. When he doesn’t have to force a smile again or pretend to ignore the disapproval in people’s eyes when they look at him or listen to him. Once he can finally let himself wallow and disappear wherever his kind disappear to. Yuri will open the text thread they have and finally tell him—

> i’m sorry i ruined it  
> you were the only one i ever wanted 

But now, Yuri just clicks the screen off and drops the phone on the bed.  
He looks up, staring out the window, a hazy reflection of himself staring back from the lamp on the end table next to him.

He really liked going to parks with Otabek.

His eyes close.

He’s going to miss him. 

He’s going to miss him so much. 

...  


* * *

**Present**

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 15 (3 Days Left)**

...  


_Holy fucking cocksucking shit_.  
It hurts.  
Yuri’s head is livid and _really_ needs him to fucking know that.

“Fuck-“ he groans out, hands covering his eyes to keep the daylight out. When he peeks under he sees Otabek curled up low on the bed, arm wrapped over Yuri’s middle, sleeping peacefully.  
“ _Shit_ -“  
Yuri sinks back into the bed, staring powerlessly at him. 

It doesn’t lessen. This shit is supposed to weaken at some point, he thought... after so many mornings- after sweeping over Otabek’s face so many times now... it’s supposed to not still feel so fucking-

Yuri brings his gaze up into the ceiling, his chest fluttering like he grew two more hearts next to his own and none of them are in sync. 

Shit just keeps growing though. Doesn’t lessen at all.  
There’s not gonna be any room in his fucking chest for any more hearts soon. Then what? 

He reaches down to run his fingertips through Otabek’s hair. Yuri knows now what wakes Otabek up and what doesn’t.  
Fingers in his hair don’t- but fingers over his torso do.  
Yuri’s lips on his shoulder don’t- but Yuri’s lips on anything higher does.  
If Yuri gets out of bed it doesn’t stir him, but if Yuri turns on the sink it does. 

Yuri watches his fingers brushing through Otabek’s hair, the tips of his nails grazing over Otabek’s scalp. That familiar warmth he’s begun to muster for himself spreading through him- a piece of himself reminding him it’s there. Yuri’s grown to like watching his fingers rake through Otabek’s hair. Reminds him that he’s-  
Capable.  
That there’s a thing in him he never needed to learn or take lessons on. A part of him that always knew how to do this.  
Like maybe it was just waiting.  
Waiting for Otabek’s perfect fucking head and his perfect fucking hair to be in his reach. 

Yuri wants to. 

Looking at Otabek fast asleep and holding onto him like Yuri gives him something he’s always wanted- Yuri’s resolve hardens.  
He wants to.  
It scares him. But he wants to.  
He reminds himself everything he’s been scared of has been a sort of giant stupid waste of time. So-  
Yeah. He- he can do this.  
He’ll do this. 

Yuri reaches for his phone and goes to read the message he was too drunk to read last night. The one from someone on his team answering a request he made-

| Ordered copies but they could take up to a week  
| You said you needed them sooner right? Do you still have the other set?

“Shit.” Yuri whispers, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He should have thought to do this sooner- but how the fuck was he supposed to know the keys to his building were made from a some kind of future civilization using alien technology that needed a week to time travel back to him?  
_God_.  
Dammit.  
He really did not want to do this shit today-  
Or any day, really-  
_Fucking...  
Annoying_...  
He opens his messages again and scrolls down to different thread. Grinding his teeth as he pulls up the keyboard, reluctantly typing-

> hey  
> i need my keys back

He sends it over and waits. Eyes darting down to Otabek’s peaceful form and softening his jaw.  
_Yeah_.  
He’ll just fucking deal with it-  
His phone vibrates. 

| y?

Yuri frowns, already exhausted. 

> who cares their mine  
> and i’m telling you i need them

| they’re*

> fuck off

| I’m busy 

> bullshit you are

| Sry :(

Yuri holds back the sound building from his frustration. He knew this would happen. _It can never be fucking easy_ -

Otabek sleeping softens him again, lowering his heart rate on sight. Carefully, Yuri pulls himself out from Otabek’s arm and scoots off the bed- Otabek adjusting himself and sleeping through it like always. 

Yuri maneuvers around, getting ready with as little noise as possible and without the use of the sink. His head is pounding like a fucking construction site so he guzzles down a couple full glasses of water and sets a glass on the end table for Otabek. 

The next 30 minutes are spent quietly cooking breakfast, throwing some clean clothes on, and randomly opening up texts inquiring for things from people on his team.  
If he’s going to do _this_...  
Yuri might have no idea what the hell he’s doing but he needs _this_ to be as perfect as fucking possible. 

Cause fuck knows he sure as shit isn’t.

...  


Otabek is sitting up in bed, body slumped and groggy when Yuri comes up the stairs from brushing his teeth in the downstairs bathroom. 

_Damn_.  
Fucking cute though.

Yuri strides over, fully dressed with the pain reliever he took already having kicked in.  
“You’re supposed to be asleep-“

Otabek rubs at his eyes, “You’re dressed, Yuri-“ he turns to the end table on his side and notices the glass of water and plated breakfast for him. Otabek looks like he might keel over out of gratitude, “... Breakfast?”

Yuri bites back a smile, “Figured it’d help with that dying feeling.” He drops his toothbrush off in the bathroom and comes back out.

“You’re leaving?” Otabek’s voice sounds like he slept in the trunk of a car, it’s a contrast to the sweetness in his eyes when he asks.

Yuri crawls onto the bed and kisses him. Otabek lifts a tired hand to cradle his cheek. “Yeah-“ Yuri says it, his voice telling him he doesn’t want to, “Just a couple errands then I’ll be back.”

“Mm-“ Otabek nods, leaning his forehead in. 

“Let me know how breakfast is. I’m gonna run, I should be back before 1,” Yuri gives him one last lingering kiss before pushing off. “I love you. Don’t- don’t go anywhere.”

Otabek shakes his head, “Mm. I won’t. Did you feed-”

“Fuck yeah I did-“ Yuri spins and gives him a wink, throwing his jacket on and pulling up the hood. “I cook. It’s what I do.”

...  


...  


Yuri hunches over the intercom, eyes down, sunglasses on and hood up, trying to keep himself hidden from the residents walking by.  
It’s fucking stupid that he needs to be here at all-  
He holds down the button till he’s satisfied the buzzing has gone on long enough for the person hearing it to want to rip their ears off-

“What!” That recognizable pissed off voice comes through. 

“Let me up-“

“ _Yuri_?!”

“One and fucking only. Let me up-“ Yuri sees a young couple stop near the elevator on the other side of the door to gape at him. “Seriously, there’s fucking people down here, let me in-“

Yuri waits, hands tensing on the wall he’s leaning against from the growing number of eyes spotting him.  
Fucking of course.  
Of course this has to be the _most fucking difficult_ -

The intercom finally comes back on,  
“No.”

Yuri growls and balls his hands into fists, “They’re _my_ fucking keys-“

“I told you I was busy.”

Yuri growls and pushes off the wall, ticking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  
_Fine_  
He walks over to the glass door, and takes his sunglasses off. Freely making eye contact with the faces on the other side and flashing a smile to them.  
“Hey!” He says it loud enough that they can hear him on the other side and gives a sheepish grin down at the door, “Any chance-“

Two eager people snap themselves out of their ogling and rush towards the door, excitedly letting him in.

“Thank you. Really appreciate it.”

They stumble out some compliments and Yuri ends up accepting a few selfie requests with a more of the residents who have congregated into the lobby. As soon as he’s free he hurries off to the stairwell, not wanting to risk anyone else stopping him. He runs up, two steps at a time, already scowling.  
When he finds the door he needs he slams a hard fist on it and knocks repeatedly, not stopping until-

“Ugh! You’re so **fucking annoying, Plisetsky**!-“  
It swings open and just as fast swings closed. “No!”

Yuri stops it, pushing it open and stepping through, slamming it behind him. “Fucking Christ, Mila!”

Mila stands on the other side of the kitchen, arms crossed with an unwavering frown. “I told you I was busy!” She spits it out, eyes matching Yuri’s level of being over this conversation already. 

“Bullshit! You’re here aren’t you? I don’t see you delivering a fucking powerpoint-” Yuri takes a step closer and pulls his hood down. “Give me my keys.”

She considers him, eyes narrowing, “Why?”

“None of your fucking business-“

She rolls her eyes and spins around, exasperated, “God, Yuri!”

“What! They’re mine!”

Mila leans over the counter, like she might pull it straight out of the ground and throw it at him, “First— You _never_ fucking text me-“

“Oh my god! What are you even talking about? I text you!”

“To watch your cats!” She spins back around, eyes flaming, “You text me to watch your cats! One of which is mine!”

“She’s not yours! She’s _mine_! You just begged me to take her!”

“ _Ugh_! God I hate talking to you-“

“Yeah, so you’re welcome then for not texting- what the fuck is your problem!”

Mila crosses her arms, her hair wild and matching the fury on her face, “Fine. So, she’s yours. But I still found her, which means we have a bond-“

“Jesus- Okay! What is your point?!”

Mila leans back, fingers tapping on the counter, “I’m sick of you only ever texting me when you want something.”

“Oh, so forcing me to come to your apartment is your evil scheme to get me here and hang out with you and fucking _gab_?!”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself Plisetsky- Why the hell would I want you blowing up in my apartment? No! I’m used to you just fucking off and getting someone else to do whatever it was you wanted. Don’t you have people you pay for that exact reason?”

“Fuck, Mila... I just need my keys-“

She pulls her lips tight and looks to the side. 

Yuri sighs, trying desperately to ease the tension in his shoulders, “ _God_! What is it, Mila? Just fucking say it-“

She grips into the ledge of the counter.  
“We’re supposed to be friends, Yuri.”

He frowns. Mila has a way of-  
Saying shit that-  
Hits. 

“We are.” He says it grudgingly. 

“No, we’re not-“ Mila says it matter of factly, “Being your personal cat sitter doesn’t make me your friend.”

“Well, I’m fucking busy- you know th-“

“Bullshit.” It comes out biting. She shifts, comfortably putting herself into the familiar role of having the upper hand in their conversations, “If it mattered to you you’d make the time. I’m not asking for weekly phone calls, Yuri. But it’s like you don’t even see anyone around you. And then you do everything you can to keep it that way and not be proven otherwise that they’re actually there.”

Yuri feels a grey cloud float in and fill him. 

“It sucks.” Mila says it defeated, “You’re like the loneliest asshole on the planet and you do everything to keep it that way despite there being people who _want_ to hear from you-”

“No one wants to hea-“

“ _I do_! I’m talking about me!” Mila’s eyes sink, the flames puttering out to smoke. “ _God_!” She slouches against the counter, “I worry about you, Yuri! You have no idea! I don’t wanna give your keys back because it’s the only thing I ever get from you that lets me know you’re still _actually_ alive-“

Yuri frowns, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  
“Fine but-“ he sighs, “I still need them, Mila.”

She looks down. 

Yuri darts his eyes up, head spinning trying to-  
“Look, I hear you. I know I’ve- not _not_ -sucked. _I’m_ -“ he reaches up, fingers pressing into his forehead, “I’ll try. Okay?“ 

Mila’s fridge door looks like every social media site threw up on itself. Yuri keeps getting distracted by it due to the sheer amount of faces and overcrowded images. Until he spots what’s been unconsciously pulling his eyes towards it all along- a magazine cut out of Otabek...  
All the air caught in his lungs falls out-  
Warmth and determination refills instead.  
“We’ll-“ Yuri has no idea how to do this, “have lunch or something-“

Mila looks at him unimpressed, eyelids sinking. 

“Oh my god, Mila- I’ll do whatever you fucking want, we’ll go _shopping_ -“

“Fuck off!”

“I don’t care! I _just_ \- Please. There. I’ll record it for you so you can play it back whenever you want. I’m saying ‘please’, Mila. Please, I just _really_ need my keys.” He looks at her pleading, then shakes his head, “Jesus, you know what, _I_ shouldn’t have to be begging you for fucks sake I’m the one who with a whole god damned legal team-“

“Here-“ Mila opens a drawer in front of her and throws a jangle of keys at his face. Yuri catches them. “Go. Take them and disappear- who cares.”

He bunches them into his hand, tipping his head to thank the ceiling.  
Yuri relaxes. Breathing easy for the first time all morning.  
“Thank you, Mila-“ he coos. 

“Mm hmm.” She has her arms crossed again, pretending to be disinterested. 

“I’ll text-“ Yuri takes a step back, turning to go but letting his eyes lock on the cutout of Otabek one more time. He moves to the door.  
“Hey _uh_ -“ he nods at it, finger tapping on the doorknob, “That Otabek?”  
He knows it is. 

She turns to her fridge and shrugs, “Yeah, he’s hot as hell- why wouldn’t he be there?”

Yuri ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, looking away and mindlessly spinning the spare keys around his finger.

She cocks her head to the side, face still searing into him, “And if I didn’t _personally_ know you were such an asshole, you’d be up there too.“

Yuri smirks at her, and nods- he goes to leave, pausing at the door-  
“Otabek. He’s _uh_ -“ he grins, “he’s at my apartment right now. In my bed actually. He’s been there for the past two weeks. These keys are for him.” He twists the door handle, feeling the heat from her eyes burn into him, “I swear to god if you tell anyone I’ll-“ the second he opens the door to step out Mila dives, pulling him back and slamming it shut.  
“FUCK! _HOW_! How are you so _fucking strong_?!-”

“ _WHAT_?!”

Yuri tries to glare back but the part of him that enjoys this overtakes entirely. “You tell anyone, I’ll-“

“Like hell I’ll tell anyone. _What the fuck, Yuri_?!”

He can’t help it. He lets the corners of his lips turn up, aware of the heat crawling into his cheeks. “It’s a long as shit story,” He looks down, fingering the keys in his pocket. “We can go into it la-“

“ _Oh_... Yuri...” Mila looks like she’s about to melt into the floor. “It explains so much...“

“Why does _everyone_ say that-“

“You loved him!”

“Okay-“

“Yuri!” Mila pulls him into a hug he definitely never asked for. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t, _but_ \- I’m hugging you. Pretend for five fucking seconds you’re normal and I’m normal and we’re just two normal friends, okay?”

He sighs, stiffly going to wrap his arms but stopping- cause _yeah_ \- No, he’s not- no way in hell is he there yet. Or ever. 

She pulls back, eyes wide and actually wet, “Holy shit- _Yuri_ \- he’s- he’s so hot.”

Yuri does a half nod, “Yeah- I’m... aware.”

Mila blinks, face suddenly taken over with concern “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Yuri balks but it falls spectacularly fast, “No! I’m a fucking idiot, you know that-“

Mila laughs, “No you’re not. You’re a dumbass. Not an idiot-”

He rolls his eyes, “Well, it’s _ah_ -“ Yuri looks down, “it’s good. We’re- He’s gonna move in.”

Mila looks like she might pass out. “ _Fuck_.”

“So there. Now you know something no one else does- is that-” Yuri pinches his lips together, “Fucking _friend-like_ enough for you?”

Mila smiles, “Well. You haven’t asked a single question about me but this is better- yeah-“ She playfully grabs at his hood and pulls it up, “Go- take your fucking keys so you can give them to your fucking boyfriend, who happens to be Otabek fucking Altin, and text me when you’re not busy being-“

“Don’t-“

“Massacred-“

“Jesus, Mila.” He turns to go.

“Yuri!”

“What?”

Mila grins at him with that cocky knowing look she always has, “I’ll put a cut out of you up there now too. And I’m gonna put it next to his-”

“Yeah- Whatever.” Yuri adjusts his hood and opens the door, a secret smirk tugging at his lips. 

... _Not so bad_ -

...  


...  


> hey i just found out someone is gonna have to come in with me to drop off shit 

| Okay  
| I’ll be downstairs

> thanks  
> sorry  
> i’ll be home soon

| Good

> headache better?

| Yes  
| Breakfast helped :)

> you mean meds helped  
> breakfast just tastes good

| Which helps!

Someone asks Yuri what his preference is between two different shades- he picks the one on the right and quickly goes back to his phone-

| Yuri  
| Selfie

Yuri tries to find an inconspicuous wall he can put himself in front of but it’s damn near impossible in this fucking place- he settles on a small sliver near the window then pulls his sunglasses off, taking a quick shot of himself and sending it over. 

| Is that a rabbit in a pea coat behind you?

Yuri looks behind and hisses out an expletive. A corner of the store’s stupid stuffed animal display sneaked into the shot. 

> yes

| Okay

> i’m only buying the pea coat  
> it’s for your dick

| I see

> so it doesn’t get cold

| Yes  
| Thank you Yuri

...  


...  


Yuri hurriedly stuffs everything into a closet and hangs up the garment bag.  
Once everything is secure he clicks the door shut and leans back, taking in the apartment. 

He can do this.  
It’s not that hard-  
Really  
It’s not.  
He just had to track down some shit before it got too late into the afternoon, buy some other shit, then he’ll clear off some tables, take a shower- get dressed and...  
_Yeah_.  
Not hard.  
Well, this part wasn’t anyway.

His hand bunches up over the spare keys in his pocket.  
It’ll be fine  
_He won’t_ -  
Yuri won’t ruin anything.  
It’ll be fine.  
_Otabek_ -  
Wants him

Yuri tries to wave away the fog from last night when Otabek straddled over Yuri’s lap and needed him. Asked for him.  
If Yuri hadn’t been drunk he’s pretty sure it would have been the moment he finally saw it-  
He squeezes so hard over the keys in his pocket the sharp ridges start to sting into his skin.  
“ _Fuck_ -“ he releases and leans his head back. 

Otabek hasn’t left.  
Otabek kisses him. Showers with him. Washes him when he cries. Gets angry at him and comes back. Holds him when he falls asleep.  
When Yuri wraps his arms around him from behind Otabek has never twisted back and looked at him with disgust. Never pushes him away. Never looks disappointed.  
He wants to be here. _He wants_ -  
Yuri’s leg bounces. _Okay_  
Okay  
He crosses over to the stairs, running a hand over his hair, going down and skipping the last two steps. 

He peers across, seeing Otabek, head down and focused on whatever the fuck it is he’s making in there all the time- headphones up, brows furrowed- cute. Always cute.  
And hot  
Really so fucking hot  
So much better than a fucking magazine cutout on a fridge.

“I’m home.”

Otabek looks up and smiles, taking his headphones off and holding out his hand. Yuri goes to him, leaning down to kiss him and then standing back up and holding Otabek’s head close to his abdomen as he pauses the work he was in the middle of. 

“No more errands?” Otabek looks up, arms circled around Yuri’s hips. 

“Mm. Sort of-“ Yuri brushes his hair back, “I’ve got some meetings I’ll have to take later, but those’ll all be video-“

“Do you want to take them in here?”

Yuri shakes his head, “No. Upstairs is fine,” he runs a finger along the edge of Otabek’s ear, “I’m gonna do some training down here then shower first.”

“Mm. Could I join you?”

Yuri smiles and nods, “Will you put on the same playlist from the other day?”

Otabek kisses his stomach, “Yes. I updated it.”

“Mm.”

“You look beautiful.”

Yuri presses his lips in tight, cheeks flushing, “Yeah? Not bad for being hungover?”

“You don’t look it even a little.”

...  


...  


Yuri turns his back to the bed, staring out into the living room, eyes fixed on the top of the stairs.  
He takes a deep breath, smoothing a hand down his jacket and letting it rest at the hem. The windows mirroring the flickering gold scene behind him.  
It looks- right. Better than he planned, honestly.

Yuri pulls his phone out and types,

> meetings done  
> come up, i miss you

He bites behind his lip and stops his knee from bouncing. 

| :)  
| Brt

The faint sound of a chair being pushed out downstairs.  
Yuri swallows. Sliding his phone back into his pocket and breathing in deep. 

He hears Otabek murmuring to Baba Yaga as he walks, then hurrying her to go faster up the steps- Yuri’s heart beating faster with every footstep-  
She speeds off leaving Otabek behind.  
Standing.  
Frozen at the top of the stairs.  
“Oh my god.”

Yuri stands silent, hands in his pockets, memorizing Otabek’s face. It’s dark, he turned all the lights off because he understands how mood lighting works. But he can still make it out. _Always_. He can _always_ make out Otabek’s face.  
It’s the same one Otabek had when Yuri first kissed him on the couch.  
Then, Yuri thought it meant Otabek wanted nothing to do with him- wanted to run away- now dirtied, dirtied and corrupted from Yuri, never to be able to wash clean again.  
It wasn’t that, though.  
This was just Otabek’s shocked face. His dumb as shit shocked face. 

Yuri smiles.  
_Fucking cute_. 

Otabek’s mouth won’t close. His eyes keep going from the trillions of candles lit behind Yuri to the floor around the bed coated in fucking cliche flower petals to Yuri- mostly on Yuri- _staying_ on Yuri- 

Otabek brings hand over his mouth, the other crosses over his chest. “That’s _uhm_ -“ he clears his throat, eyes blinking like they’re in pain, “That’s the suit from the cologne ad, Yuri-”

Yuri grins, lips tight. “Mm hm.”  
Narrowing his eyes on Otabek, Yuri crosses over. Every step causing the grin on Otabek’s face to spread wider under his hand. 

“Yuri-“ he shakes his head, “ _This is_ -” his eyes round even more, all of reality breaking in front of him. 

“Yeah. It’s fucking weird.” Yuri slips a hand out and pinches his fingers over the bottom of Otabek’s shirt. “But _uh_ -“ he can do this, “I’m going to fuck you tonight.” He says it over his palpitating heart. Says it clear and sure. 

Otabek brings his hand down so he can trail his fingers down the edges of Yuri’s jacket, “Mm.” He nods looking back up with that-  
That look- that fucking look, wanting Yuri to do anything-

“Before though, I wanted- _uh_ -“ Yuri reaches into his pocket and grabs Otabek’s wrist with his other, opening Otabek’s hand to place the keys inside, “Here.” He closes Otabek’s fingers over them. Yuri takes his hand away and stuffs them both back in his pockets, biting behind his lip, “So it’s easier. For- for you to come back- you know, whenever.”

Otabek looks down at the spare keys in his palm, warmth emanating from his smile, “Thank you.” Their eyes meet, his glistening more than the seconds before, “I will.”

They haven’t talked about the days left. But it hangs the heaviest it has since Otabek got here. Yuri hates it. Really fucking hates it. He darts his eyes away and shifts his stance.  
“I-“

Otabek grabs the lapels of Yuri’s and pulls him in, his mouth hungry and open. Yuri collects himself the moment their lips touch, his body stabilizing, his fingers snaking through Otabek’s hair to cradle the back of his head. Keeping him close. 

He lifts his other hand out from his pocket and settles it on Otabek’s waist. 

_Otabek_ \- Yuri grins into his mouth, Otabek _really_ likes this fucking suit- Otabek’s fingers are obsessed, obsessed with touching it, clutching it like he wants to rip it then smoothing them over just as fast. Even the way Otabek’s mouth kisses feels different. Every movement Yuri makes Otabek welcomes him more- eagerly encouraging Yuri to-  
Do _anything_. Do _everything_. 

A groan squeezes out from the base of Otabek’s throat, his hands going to Yuri’s hips, pressing him in-  
Yuri stops with a surprised gasp. He can feel him. _Hard_. Already. Otabek is hard.  
_Really_ hard. 

Yuri tries to get back on top of his breathing, biting into his own bottom lip in frustration.  
“I-“ he struggles, forehead tipping more into Otabek’s, “Fuck, Otabek- I really don’t know what I’m doing-“

Otabek smiles at him, leaning their heads in more, “Clearly, you do, Yuri.”

Yuri looks at him and swallows. 

He nods, his spine straightening again.

He does. _Clearly he does_. 

Inside, Yuri tentatively steps away from the part of him he locks up as much as he can, letting it out with a firm warning and a leash at it’s neck.  
Yuri grabs Otabek’s hand, interlacing their fingers and turns, leading them to the bed. 

“There aren’t any petals on the bed because I didn’t want them to get stuck in your asscrack-“ Yuri tugs on Otabek’s hand and turns him so they’re facing, the back of Otabek’s legs bumping against the bed. 

Otabek smiles, “That’s thoughtful,” he looks around, eyes still unable to comprehend the scene flickering in front him, “This is... _really_ unexpected-“

Yuri knits his brows, “It’s your ass, Otabek.”

Otabek silently laughs, staring at the petals under them. 

“Like hell if your ass is getting fucked in for the first time without candles and flower petals all over the god damned place, I’m sorry there isn’t a saxophonist, now ge-“ Yuri stops himself, a small stuttered sound escapes.  
_Shit_  
That was close to being what he normally did. A quick order for a position or an act. Always transactional. Whether the other party did the same or felt something more, it didn’t matter. It was always cold-  
_No_ , not even cold.  
For something to be cold meant there was an ability to feel at all. Which there wasn’t. It wasn’t cold. It was empty. It was stepping into a dark vacuum that meant nothing and felt nothing. Only a deep-rooted need to take his mind somewhere else- searching for that one narrow dimly lit road that could lead him to some semblance of release and make his mind go blank. Wholly blank. Without the anger or the sadness or the disappointment or the fear. No loneliness. No ache. _Just_ \- a bright merciful flash of light. 

Yuri reminds himself, letting go of Otabek’s hand so he can lift it to cup Otabek’s cheek. 

That won’t happen here.  
_This_ was his.  
Otabek was his. All of Otabek’s kindness and all of Otabek’s warmth was Yuri’s now. Even before they came back to each other, just the memory of it was enough to keep Yuri from freezing entirely most days. Enough to keep his head up. His fingers moving and his limbs working. 

They both agreed it was different with each other than it was with anyone else.  
Yuri stares at his hand cupping Otabek’s cheek- he could never do it to anyone else. There is no one else his hand would know how to cup a cheek like this with.  
It’s different.  
He says it to himself- _it’s different_ \- he says it over and over until it vibrates through every muscle and vein.  
It will be different. _He won’t_... he won’t feel empty. He won’t make Otabek feel empty or sad because Yuri didn’t feel more. Yuri feels everything with him. He could never feel nothing if it’s Otabek in front of him- naked and kissing him.  
_He won’t_...  
He won’t fuck this up.  
He won’t lose him from this.

“Yuri?”

Yuri’s vision goes from a haze to a clear focus on Otabek’s face, his thumb stroking along the perfect structure of his cheek. Otabek stares back, eyes deep and warm- not a spot of hesitation or worry. 

“I really like this suit.”

Yuri smiles, “Guess I’m not taking it off then.”

“Mm,” Otabek’s eyes swim over him, burning into the fabric, his hands lightly touching along the folds and the seams, tugging at the openings then smoothing over somewhere else. “You’re- _really_ extraordinary to look at, Yuri. Thank you.”

He won’t lose him.  
Yuri leans in, barely brushing their lips, the tips of his fingers curving over the hair above Otabek’s ears. Otabek pushes in more, hurriedly wanting to escalate them- but like a magnet of the same charge Yuri retracts back, just enough to keep them where he started. 

Otabek smirks against his mouth, “We don’t have to go so slow-“

“ _Chill_ -“  
Amusement bubbles up into Yuri’s chest, the idea that the first and only instance of Otabek being impatient happening from the impending moment of Yuri’s dick being inside him- like, _sure_ , that can be reality for a moment. 

Yuri presses in one more light kiss then stands back, his eyes still on him as he tugs at the string of Otabek’s joggers. 

Otabek reaches in his pocket and takes out the keys Yuri just gave him and carefully puts them on his nightstand which is a stark difference to the hastiness he has when he unexpectedly slips his pants off. And his underwear. 

Yuri flips his hands up and stares at the ceiling. “Jesus- I _just_ said-“

Otabek continues, pulling his shirt up and off, ignoring Yuri’s weaning displeasure- weaning because Otabek’s body is still Otabek’s body and maybe, okay, this might actually be helping quiet Yuri’s fears-

Eagerly, Otabek sits on the bed and scoots himself all the back, sitting up against the pillows, smiling. Welcoming and naked. Like he didn’t just disregard and skip all twenty steps Yuri had plotted out in his head. 

“Okay well-“ Yuri blinks and makes a choked sound, “Good to know you’re fucking impossible if you’re the one taking it-”

Otabek’s eyes are misty and continuing to busy themselves, “I _really_ like that suit.”

Yuri relents, smiling and shaking his head. He chucks his shoes off and closes the distance between himself and the bed, bringing a knee up, shifting closer to him and swinging his other leg over to bracket Otabek’s hips. 

Otabek stares, wide eyed and breath stopped.  
It doesn’t make any fucking sense. It doesn’t make sense for him to be looking up at Yuri like this. Like he wants everything. Like he already wants Yuri in him. Like it’d be exactly what he wanted if Yuri just took his own cock out now, spit in his hand and pushed himself inside.  
He should be _nervous_. And _worried_. At the very fucking least, Otabek should be uncomfortable.  
He shouldn’t trust him. Otabek should know he shouldn’t trust Yuri for this. 

He does though. Yuri isn’t sure if that helps or makes things more terrifying. 

He stares at the familiar but never not all-consuming perfection that is Otabek’s naked chest. The carved definition and the undeniable strength rippling beneath the surface. Yuri’s mouth waters, his tongue coiling apprehensively- he trails his knuckles along the smooth skin and leans himself in- letting the first sparks of a flame burn at his core.  
Yuri’s looks up and sees Otabek begging- his eyes locked on Yuri’s mouth, begging. It cracks something.  
_Shit_. 

Yuri kisses him, parting his mouth when their lips touch and sliding his tongue in to wrap itself inside. Otabek responds with a loud groan, sliding himself down until he’s laying flat and crawling his hands into Yuri’s jacket to grip into his waist and bring him in closer. 

“ _Jesus_ -“ Yuri breathes out, bringing his free hand down to clutch into Otabek’s hip, his own body reflexively rolling from it. Their cocks press, Otabek’s bare and hardening fast, Yuri’s still contained under two layers of fabric.  
Otabek wraps his hands further in, pushing into Yuri’s lower back, desperate to feel the friction between them more, _demanding it_ -

 _Fuck_ -

Yuri makes a sound and pulls back. “Stop-“ he pants “You _have_ to stop. Sorry _just_ -“ he sits back on his knees and brings a hand to his brow, frustrated and catching his breath, “It’s not just for you- going slow- _I_ -“  
Yuri points a finger into dipped space next to Otabek’s hip, “I need it. For me.” He swallows and meets his gaze. “I already can’t fucking trust me- but I really can’t if you don’t. Even if it’s for different reasons.” Yuri softens and leans himself forward again, “We’ll get there-“ he assures him, staring directly into the hunger reflecting in Otabek’s eyes, “I promise, we will, _just_ -“ Yuri puts a hand up, “Fucking _chill_.”

Otabek eases, closing his eyes and loosening into the bed under him. “Mm,” he opens them again, warmth overflowing into his cheeks, he nods. “Sorry. It’s- really very difficult-“

“Yeah, I know. So remember that next time you get all irritated at me-“ Yuri smirks, stroking a finger under Otabek’s chin. “Let me do this-“ He dips his head down to him more, pleading,  
“Please. Let me... love you the way- the way in my head you should be. Even if I can’t- just... let me try, okay? Please.”

Otabek’s brows furrow in response, his hand reaches out to cup Yuri’s cheek, “Yuri, _you_ -“

Yuri kisses him, harder than before, not needing to hear it. It’s fine. He just needs to be given a chance.  
Otabek sighs into his mouth- and this time he stays loose, his mouth following Yuri’s pace, his body reacting only in line with the movements of Yuri’s.  
_Thank you_  
Yuri moves to Otabek’s neck, his hand splayed, sliding and pushing down Otabek’s chest. He kisses and sucks down the slope into Otabek’s shoulder, lingering, his mouth kissing and latching there building on the low growls purring from Otabek’s chest and the eager instinctive gyrating of Otabek’s hips. 

It trembles inside him. The pools of his lust rippling on the surface, warning him of the incoming storm. Yuri loosens the leash on himself. Letting the fire burn more but tempering it to a low simmer.  
He pulls himself off and lowers, drowning Otabek’s chest with his mouth, kissing him- pretending Yuri isn’t Yuri or at least not the Yuri he’s always needed to be and letting the love- the adoration- the idolization- _pour_ from him- pour from his mouth and his hands and the pores on his skin- kissing and caressing and worshipping the body that holds the person that no one could ever be stupid enough to think they fucking deserve. 

Otabek holds onto him, the muscles Yuri kisses and worships with his lips, retracting and tensing with every shaking breath from Otabek’s lungs. The sounds that free themselves from Otabek’s mouth new and surrendering.  
_Yes_.  
Confidence fills him, _finally_.  
Fucking finally.  
Yuri pulls himself up again and let’s his teeth graze over Otabek’s nipple before taking it in and swirling his tongue over the bead, sweeping it under the waves of the liquid drenching his mouth from having Otabek’s naked body under him and surrendering. 

Otabek’s back arches and Yuri feels a trickle of precome at the tips of his fingers grazing below Otabek’s naval. He switches his mouth to the other nipple and lets his fingers follow it- following the slick path to the hard cock reaching for Yuri’s attention. 

“Mmm-“ Otabek has his eyes squeezed shut like it’s a tactic to keep himself from escalating them like before, one hand balled into a fist at his side, the other spread and pushing into the space between Yuri’s shoulders. 

Yuri sucks his nipple harder while his fingers stroke light caresses along the base of his cock but don’t grasp. Once he’s given the other nipple the same amount of time and attention he lifts up and slides himself down. 

“Yuri-“ Otabek swallows, opening his eyes to stare down at him. “I’m not saying this to rush- I’m not, but- you shouldn’t- I _really_ like that suit and _you’re_ \- this will be over if you-“

Yuri pushes up and adjusts so he’s no longer straddling him. He doesn’t say anything, simply reaches for a spare pillow at the head of the bed and waits for Otabek to bring his hips up, both of them sliding it under him-  
When Otabek settles, eyes asking him the comment from before, Yuri still doesn’t say anything, instead he shrugs the suit jacket off his shoulders, taking it off and tossing it cleanly behind him. Going to his sleeves next, rolling them up, his mind clear and focused for the first time all night, knowing exactly what he was doing, what he was going to do, even having a pretty good idea of the outcome.  
He squints, his hand going to his tie, loosening it just enough before tapping Otabek’s leg, signaling for him to open.  
Otabek does, feet planted but bringing his knees up, spreading them wide, mouth parted and bracing himself. 

_Mm_. 

Yuri picks himself up, settling between Otabek’s legs, fingers soothing up and down his flexed thighs. “ _Chill_ , Otabek-“ Yuri purrs it, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, bending down to place a kiss on Otabek’s knee. “Just _feel good_ -“ He closes his eyes, kissing down the inside of Otabek’s thigh, lingering long on every press of his lips, the tops of nails trailing along the skin. 

“ _Trust me_ -“ Yuri gives it as a preemptive warning- then takes Otabek’s cock into his mouth. 

Otabek goes to say something but stops, legs falling to the side, head titling back. He’s been leaking this whole time. Yuri wasn’t going to but the fresh glaze of his come dripping off the head- it was impossible-  
Yuri twists his tongue over, sucking up the come spilled for him, his lips molding their shape between the base of his cock and the head- Otabek won’t stop twitching, won’t stop writhing beneath his skin, Yuri relishes every movement, every uncontrollable need that Otabek is trying so hard to hold back.  
Otabek moans, and his cock lurches in Yuri’s mouth- Yuri pops off- licking one more stripe up the base before kissing down- kissing _down_ \- sliding his hands under the cheeks of Otabek’s ass and lifting- _kissing down_ \- 

Otabek gasps, actually gasps. _It’s_... so fucking sweet- Yuri has to pause, his lips open against the crevice of his ass, his tongue pulling back.  
Closing his eyes, Yuri breathes out. _This_ \- he’s wanted this- the fixation and effect Otabek’s ass has on him- _fuck_ \- he’s definitely wanted this  
Yuri shifts his weight, sliding the rest of him more behind, stretching his neck out and clawing his hands deeper into Otabek’s ass, pushing up.  
He loosens the leash even more- till it touches the ground-  
Yuri let’s his tongue out, let’s it _taste_ -

Otabek moans with a roll of his body. 

Yuri smiles, reaching more, licking up the shadow of skin, letting the tip of his tongue and heat of Otabek’s perfection burn and meld together. Until he can map all of him- until Yuri begins to memorize the musk- the depth and the feel of this part of him. Yuri breathes out against Otabek’s entrance with a promise- and in the bracing of their silence, circles his tongue over-

“ _Oh my god_ -“ Otabek hands ball over the sheets, his legs lifting more.

Yuri drinks it like fuel, holds it in his chest like a shot to the heart, spreading it to every part of himself. He dips his tongue in, hands kneading into Otabek’s ass. It’s-  
_Fucking good_  
Yuri waves his head from side to side, angling his tongue with him, saliva pooling and dripping from his mouth, losing himself. Losing himself in the sounds Otabek makes- the sensations he’s having maybe for the first time- sensations from Yuri’s tongue licking inside him, around him, wetting Otabek the way he should be wet- drenched the way he has always deserved to be drenched-

“ _Ah_ \- Yuri-“ Otabek clenches.  
_Yes_  
Found something-  
Yuri does it again, moves his tongue the same way. Twists it against the walls and presses in on the same spot-  
Otabek moans, the breath following shaking out from his chest. 

Yuri brings one hand out from under him and slides it over Otabek’s balls, massaging into them with the thrusts of his tongue.  
Otabek keeps saying his name. It’s in a tone so rare and so pure it nearly breaks Yuri in half. Clean down the middle. The need is growing in it- every time it leaves Otabek’s lips- it grows- Yuri never loses it. Never doesn’t pay close attention- not wanting Otabek to fall all too soon- _just_ enough-

He brings his tongue back, soaking in the sigh Otabek makes from the loss of him. Yuri kisses the heat of his entrance then parts his mouth again, presses in and sucks. 

“ _Oh_ -“ 

Yuri hums, happily, sucking in more, his hand crawling up the head of Otabek’s cock-  
There’s so much come for him-

Yuri breaks off. Pushing up and bringing his knees under. Panting and smoothing a hand though his hair.  
He smiles, biting into his lip, looking into Otabek’s flushed speechless face.  
“ _You_ -“ 

Otabek interrupts him by rising up just enough to grab onto Yuri’s tie and yank him over, crashing their lips together. Yuri responds eagerly, his dick having grown rock hard and pooling all on its own below the layers of his pants and underwear. He rocks into him, sliding their cocks together-

They can’t stop, their mouths ravenous, Otabek’s clawing into Yuri’s shirt, his legs rising and wrapping around Yuri’s waist, Yuri’s losing it- the leash tipping off the ends of his fingers- hips pressing harder- it’s burning through his skin-  
Otabek is pulling him in, consuming him- it’s-  
_Fuck_  
it’s messy, their teeth gnash, Otabek keeps trying to grab hold of his bottom lip but Yuri won’t let him. He’s too busy- doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to-  
“ _Fuck_ -“ Yuri rips his mouth off and pushes up. 

He throws his tie off and reaches for the lube. Otabek looks up, eyelids heavy, his hands going to the top buttons of Yuri’s shirt, entranced by something beneath the fabric. Yuri smiles down at him, squeezing lube into his hand, shaking his head. “Does that mean you liked it?”

Otabek unbuttons the top button, moving to the one below, “Yes.”

“Good. I won’t stop- now that I know-“ Yuri spreads the lube, slicking it over his fingers. 

“I don’t want you to.”

Yuri parts his lips, breath paused. He swallows, adjusting himself and lowering back down against Otabek’s side.  
“For this-“ Their breaths burn in the air between them. 

Otabek stares at him, face perfectly at peace and the smallest bit damp, brushing Yuri’s hair back, chest still glistening from before. 

“You need to tell me if it’s- bad- good- _anything_. With like- _words_.”

Otabek smiles at him, he nods. 

“ _Otabek_ -“ Yuri presses him. 

“I will,” Otabek says it with the same smile, eyes drifting down to the skin he unveiled from his unbuttoning. 

“ _Even if it’s bad_...“ Yuri repeats himself, the part he’s most worried about painted clear on his face. 

Otabek blinks out of his daze from staring at the bare skin over Yuri’s collarbone. “I promise, Yuri.”

Yuri arches a brow, his fingers paused, hovering over the space between Otabek’s legs. “Say it. Practice. I want to hear it.”

Otabek looks back stunned but laughing, “ _Ah_ -“

“Otabek-“

“What you’re doing is-“ Otabek grins at him, Yuri bows his head hanging on for the last word, “-bad.”

Yuri cocks a matching grin, and kisses him. Otabek clutches Yuri’s shirt pulling them in closer.  
The skin below is still wet from before. He licks up into Otabek’s mouth, his finger pressing against the entrance his tongue claimed for it’s own first. 

Otabek pulls him in even more, mouth breathing fire into his, legs bent and spreading wide for him. 

Yuri bites into Otabek’s lip at the same time as he presses in, pushing past that first resistance, pushing until-  
Otabek makes the faintest sound, Yuri leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth, wishing he could have caught the noise in his instead. 

Otabek rolls his hips into Yuri’s inserted finger and it’s the first time Yuri let’s himself actually feel it. The warmth. The tightness.  
Oh- _that’s_ \- fuck  
Otabek kisses the corner of Yuri’s mouth, “Another, Yuri-“ he requests, “Please.”

Yuri smirks, moving inside- “No.”  
He means it.  
Despite Otabek’s seeming relaxedness and overall calm- his asshole is not. It wraps around Yuri’s finger like it wants to trap him in there forever. Tight is an understatement. It’s strangling. 

Yuri breathes deep.  
Nuzzling into Otabek’s neck, Yuri kisses him in the spaces he knows make Otabek melt most. Sucking with the slide of his finger- until slowly- very slowly- Otabek sinks- his body sighing into the bed. 

“Yuri-“

When Yuri thrusts his finger out he inserts another in with it. Otabek moans. 

“Fuck, Otabek-“ Yuri sinks his teeth into Otabek’s shoulder, stilling his hand- waiting for the walls to do anything except squeeze- Otabek _really_ wasn’t kidding. It must have only been a finger or two. And it must have been the year 1840.  
Yuri licks against his neck, making small slow movements with his fingers inside, still being overwhelmed at the feeling of it, “Otabek- _I’ve_ -“  
He grits his teeth, trying to release himself in some way since it can’t be where he wants to most, “I’ve always wanted to feel you here-“

 _Huh_  
It’s like a button just got pushed-  
The walls soften on every word-

Yuri nips at Otabek’s skin, eager at having found an actual entry point- _of fucking course_ -  
Otabek always writhes and grinds so much more whenever Yuri says-  
_Anything_  
“I’d imagine you-“ he keeps going, and compared to before it’s like he’s being welcomed, practically caressed- no longer gripped and trapped- “Imagine entering you- your back under me- fucking you-“ 

Otabek’s breath hitches, eyes closed, Yuri curves his fingers, actually tracing him inside-

“Losing my mind-“ Yuri curves inside more, actually fingering him now- truly fucking him- stroking inside- “Cause you’d feel so good- I knew you’d feel _so good_ -“

Yuri tests it and adds another- the resistance lessened considerably from before- “- just like this.”  
_Yes_  
Yuri wont stop kissing him, kissing up his neck, shifting his weight to kiss up his jaw. 

Otabek whimpers- his hips beginning to move again. Moving with Yuri’s push and pull. His hand blindingly clutching to Yuri’s shirt at his side. 

“I want you-“ Yuri whispers it hot into his ear, scissoring his fingers, eyes drinking in his body’s reaction. “Is it good?”

Otabek can barely nod, but his cock is bulged and dribbling onto his stomach. “ _It’s_ \- it’s good- Yuri- _really good_ \- I’ve never-“

Yuri starts to note which spot Otabek twitches most from, being careful to tease at the space around it- inching in more and more-  
The feeling of it. Watching him twist in his skin and sweat into the sheets.  
He’s perfect.  
Otabek is perfect. His legs spreading- his perfect fucking legs- the muscles in them reaching, stretching for Yuri

Yuri furrows his brow and leans his head against his- inserting one more-

Otabek stifles a cry- his mouth open but not taking in any air. 

Yuri kisses his temple- the pain of his own hardened cock beginning to throb. “Otabek. Feel me.”

Otabek turns his head to look at him and reaches down-

Yuri bites into Otabek’s lip, “ _You’re so fucking hot_ -” he fucks him, his fingers dragging directly against the spot that makes Otabek lose-  
Otabek kisses him back _starved_ , clutching at the hardened mass wanting to break through for him. “That’s just from feeling you-“ Yuri says it with a tremble in his voice, starting to lose a hold of himself, he’s been so lost in opening Otabek, making sure to go slow, he didn’t realize how much he was craving friction- how increasingly turned on he’s been getting- _it_ \- it was beginning to hurt-

“Yuri-“ Otabek clutches harder, “ _Fuck me_.”

It stops him.  
Those words-  
From him.  
Yuri blinks into his face- years worth of memories and shame and self hatred flashing back- _all_ \- all from the fantasy of those words. When they called out Yuri’s name- when they said those exact same words to him- they meant nothing- noises that meant nothing- to make them mean anything Yuri would have to imagine-  
Yuri snaps his eyes closed.  
“Say it again-“

Otabek moves in, following his mouth, “Fuck me, Yuri. _Please_.”

What a strange feeling to be so turned on it could elicit a need to cry. He doesn’t. But he could.  
Yuri bends his head, pulling his hand back and out. He turns away to stand up, off the bed. 

Otabek burns his eyes into him. Watching.  
Yuri undresses, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and slipping it off, pushing down his slacks with his underwear until he stands naked and erect. Otabek’s eyes still burning into him. 

“Yuri-“ he moans it, pleading, his face golden and perfect against the candlelight. 

_Yes_  
On autopilot, Yuri goes to grab a condom from the drawer-

“No-“ Otabek’s eyes go wide, and then he smiles. “Why?”

Yuri freezes, “Oh. Right.” He bites behind his lips,  
_Shit_  
Well. Okay. So this will last maybe a minute.  
Turning to the bed, Yuri crawls back over to Otabek, his lower half settling between Otabek’s thighs- bending down, bracing against one arm next to Otabek’s head. He eyes the lube on the end table and Otabek grabs it for him, squeezing it into his own hand and reaching down for Yuri’s cock. 

Yuri closes his eyes, mouth parting when Otabek’s thumb strokes against the slit- then grabs Otabek’s hand when he shows no sign of parting- grinning, taking it with him as he lowers, leaning against one arm, his other going to his cock to position itself-

Yuri’s eyes blur with the tip of his cock right... _there_ -  
“Otabek- this is happening-“

Otabek smiles at him, tucking the loose strands of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. He nods. “Yes.”

With the glow of the candlelight and nothing but the silence of their breath, Yuri feels his mind growing louder and brighter all over again- doubt speeding through the folds of his brain. “You’re sure?”

Otabek presses himself up so he can kiss him, fingers lightly touching Yuri’s cheek, “Yes.”

Yuri bows his head down, mentally trying to stronghold himself before-  
His hips push, pressing himself in-

“Oh _ffff_ -“ he hisses into the base of Otabek’s neck. Pausing. Waiting. Pressing in more. Pausing.  
The leash is back to being wrapped fully around his wrist. Which might be a mistake- the strain is so strong from the lack of length. It takes everything.  
_Fucking everything_  
It feels-

Otabek breathes in sharp- the ghost of a last note of a cry floating from his lips. 

_No_.  
Yuri slows even more.  
Fuck  
It’s so fucking unworldly. So fucking good. _So_ -  
_Fuck_  
He freezes. His dick confused- not understanding why Yuri would put up a steel barrier resistance from fucking into something that feels so fucking good- especially since it’s-  
“ _Breathe, Otabek_ -“ Yuri murmurs it into his skin, head still bowed, hips frozen in place. “You have to breathe-“

He does, arms wrapping around Yuri’s shoulders. 

A small dent in the constriction around Yuri’s cock- the walls molding- warmth enveloping him- pressing and wet against every nerve ending in Yuri’s cock- precome _squeezes_ from his head- the fluttering of lights already igniting themselves in the inner most part of Yuri’s guts.  
“Are you okay?”

Otabek nods, “It’s you,” he murmurs it into the air, words drifting out from him like he’s being soaked in relief. 

Yuri gulps, pressing in more. 

Every inch forward, Otabek relaxes, his body growing heavier and heavier into the mattress, his arms and his legs encouraging Yuri more.

Yuri pushes- the pull in him dragging him further until-  
He stops. Fully inside. Drowning to the hilt in the heat of Otabek’s core. 

Yuri shakes a breath out.  
He’s screaming inside.  
But he stays.  
The fucking possession inside demanding to be let free. Turning in circles, body thrashing to be let go. But he doesn’t.  
He stays.  
_He won’t_ -

“Yuri?“

Otabek can feel him shaking.  
Yuri _can’t_ -  
He’s starting to crumble in on himself- entirely frozen and  
So fucking scared

“Yuri?-“ he’s forcing Yuri’s head to look up. 

Yuri tries to keep his head locked down but doesn’t have the strength for anything right now, all of it focused on containing and facing the curse that he’s always been- he meets Otabek’s concerned gaze, bare and shaded by the storm he tried so hard to avoid and make disappear-

“Yuri...”

The fear is so heavy it pulls him straight into the darkness.  
“I don’t want to lose you.”  
Yuri says it like he’s in a confessional. Head down, maybe a tear slipping down his cheek, he doesn’t know, ashamed, already succumbing to his fate.  
He sees it so clearly. His body is already hurting from it. 

Otabek is perfect

Yuri is

Otabek holds Yuri’s face.  
“You could _never_ -“  
His eyes soft and promising. Warm.  
“Never, Yuri.” He shakes his head, thumbs stroking the sides of Yuri’s face. “ _Never_.”  
Otabek’s brow furrows more seriously and he guides Yuri closer, his body still holding Yuri inside. When their breaths collide, Otabek tips Yuri’s face to him again-  
“You’re everything. For me.”  
He presses their foreheads together and Yuri nearly collapses over him but just when he might Otabek brings their lips together- breathing in life. 

A sound scrambles out from the bottom of Yuri’s gut all the way up his chest and out his throat. A needy surrendering. A renunciation. Something being rewritten under his skin. 

There isn’t a leash or a curse  
Just the heat engulfing him and thawing out the cold.  
Otabek opens for him more- legs lifting, his mouth whining for him-  
Yuri thrusts, small and slow, kissing Otabek back desperately, his hand gently grasping at Otabek’s hip pulling it to him.

And Otabek molds to him, not just inside but outside too. His arms draping themselves over Yuri’s back, his spine rolling with Yuri’s pace, his head angling _just_ enough.  
Yuri’s body begins to move freely, entirely on it’s own... gently but growing, hips pumping, his thrusts deepening- euphoria already reached and strengthening with each slide of his cock. He grips harder into Otabek’s hip, savoring the low breathy tone Otabek makes from it.

The sounds Otabek makes aren’t his... but they also are. He makes them reactively, each one overflowing from the stream of pleasure pouring from his chest.  
Yuri kisses him, finding Otabek’s mouth, needing the breath that heals him again-  
Otabek gives it, happily, willingly- kissing and panting into his mouth, keeping their lips pressed and open, matching Yuri’s pumps with his own, pushing up like he’s lost all control over himself- hands grasping Yuri everywhere, begging Yuri to fuck in to him harder.  
And the noises- _fuck_ \- they won’t stop. Noises that are _so rare_. So surrendering. And Otabek, without any inhibition, passes them into Yuri’s mouth, sounds alone that drive Yuri to break.

“Fuck, Otabek-“ Yuri can’t stop, his hips working independently from the rest of him- he doesn’t have to stop, but it’s bringing him over fast- _too fast_. Inside, Otabek is holding him and begging him to stay- causing the friction to drag so much longer-  
“ _Oh my god_ -“ His eyes close in bliss, “- _How_ is this even real- _you- you feel so fucking good_...“  
Yuri doesn’t dare look down when he opens them- it’s over if he looks down. He keeps his gaze forward or on Otabek’s face- which is already too much.

Yuri mentally taps into his bottom half and slows, adjusting himself and bracing Otabek’s leg, deepening the angle.

“Yuri-“

Yuri knows exactly where he’s hitting- memorized it from before- his dick rubbing over it, lighting it and making it glow.

“ _Yuri!_ - _tha_ -“  
Otabek’s breathing is getting ragged-  
Yuri takes Otabek’s cock, and leans back over him, stroking him- keeping his pace and putting more pressure against-

“ _Ah_ -“ Otabek legs stiffen- he’s tensing- eyes wet. Yuri doesn’t let up- his cock keeping the same pace, summoning the wave, pushing and dragging against the sacred haven Yuri found inside him as he twists and strokes Otabek’s own-

Otabek makes a strangled freeing cry and convulses-  
Come _seeps_...  
Otabek’s body trembles- his climax kneading Yuri from inside, “Yuri, _I want_ -“ he groans it out, painfully, still shuddering from the pleasure of his own orgasm. Yuri leans down and kisses him, Otabek moans against his mouth, continuing, “Don’t stop- _I want_ -“ He shudders again, “ _Come_ -“ there’s such strain in Otabek’s voice. “ _Please_ \- I want you to come in me, Yuri...“  
Yuri grips into him harder, an excruciating noise falling from his mouth, hips still fucking him-  
He looks down for the first time, 

“ _Oh_ -“

It’s _exactly_ what it feels like- _it’s Otabek_... Yuri’s fucking him- sliding into him- and Otabek is _perfect_... sweating- curving for him- taking him and holding him inside-  
Light builds... Warmth and light building-  
Yuri’s thrusts quicken, sweat vibrating off his skin-

Legs wrap around Yuri, pulling him in deeper. Yuri gasps, “No, I’m-“

“Yes-“

“ _Otabek_ -“  
Yuri breaks. His come _pouring_ inside. His mind and his body healing by a blinding light... _There is nothing bad_  
_Nothing_  
Everything is beautiful  
So _so_ beautiful

Yuri can’t stop shaking. Every inch of him slicked in sweat. Otabek wraps his arms around him, pulling him in, inviting Yuri to fall into him-  
His voice isn’t there yet. Maybe he’s hyperventilating. Otabek kisses him. Kisses his forehead, brushes back the matted hair stuck to his face, kisses him- won’t stop kissing him- he shifts Yuri over him. With the last bit of strength Yuri has he pulls himself out, hearing a hum press into his skin from Otabek’s lips. 

“ _You_ -“ Yuri says it exhausted, still trying to catch his breath, hands going to his hair. Otabek has him on his back next to him, still kissing him- _everywhere_ \- like he always does- “No-“ Yuri says it, groaning, his eyes halfway open, “I’m supposed- it’s me- I’m supposed to do that-“

“Mmm-“ Otabek sucks into the soft space below Yuri’s collarbone. “Do it next time...“ 

Yuri lets his eyes close, succumbing to the comfort of Otabek kissing him, “You’re so fucking tight.” 

Otabek laughs, still moving his lips along Yuri’s chest. “I told you it hasn’t been much.”

Yuri forces his eyes to snap open and sits up on his forearms, “Are you okay? Fucking tell me, if you’re not-“

“Yuri, I’m fine.” Otabek he leans in to kiss his nose. “Better than.”

“You-“ Yuri stares back, eyes pressing, “You’re not hurt? I didn’t-“

“No.” Otabek smiles, thumb tracing under Yuri’s chin, “I love you so entirely-“ he sighs, “I think I’ve become one of those ‘clingers’ you dislike so much now-“

Yuri laughs and collapses back onto the bed, arms loosely hugging Otabek in. “No-“ he’s so fucking tired, “I love you. So fucking insanely. _Holy shit_ -“ Yuri blinks up into the ceiling, “I can’t believe I just fucked you.“ 

“Mm.“ Otabek rests his cheek into Yuri’s chest, humming happily. 

“Do you feel different?”

“Mm. Sort of.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, Yuri, but I think I might be able to dance now.”

Yuri bursts out laughing, “ _Really_? My dick did that?”

“And your come, yes.”

Yuri shakes his head, wrapping his arms around him tighter, “No. I don’t ever want you to not look like a fucking action figure on top of a washing machine when you dance, Otabek. I’d have to unfuck you.”

“Yuri?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Otabek kisses the center of Yuri’s chest, and rests his cheek down, “You’re very romantic.”

The candles are still going, halfway melted and sagging into themselves, surrounding them in gold. Potya and Baba Yaga are scurrying after one another and randomly flopping over to roll around in different piles of petals playing a game they just made up and _definitely_ have rules for. 

“Mm.” Yuri feels a blush creep up, “Don’t tell anyone.”

...  


**=======**


	28. Part IV: 9. Yura

**=======**

**St. Petersburg  
Day 17 (Last Day)**

...  


They wake up in silence.  
Lips on Otabek’s cheek. His jaw.  
He blinks awake to Yuri kissing him.  
Otabek is grateful that at this point, even though his head is still waking up, his mouth knows what to do all on it’s own. He returns Yuri’s kiss, following his pace and happily giving Yuri what he’s asking for. Savoring every piece of it- _Of course_ he’s savoring it.  
Waking up from one dream and moving into another. The one he’s been having every morning since he got here and can’t seem to wake up from. Where his day starts with Yuri kissing him- needing him and asking for him.

Otabek rouses more, the inescapable weight of the last day swelling inside him and making it urgent. Yuri too. It syncs between them without them saying anything. Their mouths speeding faster and their hands grasping despite having only just woken up- both of them taking out their frustrations against time continuing to move out from under them into whatever skin their fingernails are pressed into. 

Otabek takes Yuri under him, moving up and over, Yuri immediately parting his legs and clawing into his back, their tongues curling.  
Early morning light filters around them, growing brighter, reminding them it’s moving.  
_It’s moving_.  
_Why_ does it have to be moving?

Otabek _rolls_ into him, their outlines moving like liquid under the white sheet. Yuri arches, freeing a moan that pleads for something.  
Otabek presses his hips in, rubbing their bare erections against each other on their thrusts. It’s bliss when they touch. Otabek groans, bringing his head down. Slickness seeping at both of their tips.  
Yuri snaps his eyes open and looks at him, silently asking and silently telling all at once.  
Reaching for the bottle, Otabek pours long heavy streaks into his hand then hovers the bottle over Yuri’s palm. Yuri takes it, and without saying anything, they smooth it around their hands, their fingers, and the space between.  
When Otabek leans his forehead against Yuri’s, he imagines their heads melting until they can speak without needing their voices, maybe then Yuri could understand just how much Otabek doesn’t want to leave.  
Because he doesn’t.  
He doesn’t want to leave him.  
There’s a growing list of things Otabek has noted that are better when Yuri is there-  
Like waking up. 

Yuri pushes his hips up, prompting both of them to reach down and stroke together. Foreheads melting. Matching their strokes to the pace of their hips. Yuri bands his free arm over Otabek’s back to bring him in closer, burying his face with a soft cry that causes the first of undoubtably many cracks to form over Otabek’s heart.  
They pace faster, Yuri’s thumb doing quick caresses on both their heads every time his hand passes- a jolt of pleasure jumping him faster to breaking. Otabek moves his mouth over to the side of Yuri’s face, rubbing his cheek against his, memorizing how soft it is, hitching a breath every time the heads of their leaking cocks press and drag.

Otabek moans. He wants Yuri to come feeling Otabek’s cock quivering against his. Pressing them so closely together the skin sparks from the other, steaming, white hot light glowing from within, come lured out from the slit at each other’s tips.  
Otabek dips his head down lower and sinks his teeth near the back of Yuri’s neck.  
They speed faster. Breath quickening. 

” _No_ -“ Yuri gasps, mouth open and wet against Otabek’s shoulder as he flexes then sinks himself into the bed, breathless and trembling.  
The warm feeling of Yuri’s come spilling over onto Otabek’s grip and cock, the sheer image of it- Otabek’s strokes turn uncontrollable, chaotic, separate from the rest of him. Yuri wraps his hand around him, taking over, keeping the same speed and fervor as Otabek had for himself. _It’s better_ -  
It’s better in Yuri’s grip-

Otabek uses the freedom of both arms to brace himself just enough above Yuri, not wanting to crush him before-  
His head presses into the pillow next to Yuri’s ear, and he breaks with a low muffled groan. Yuri leans against him, panting, stroking him to the end.

Emptied and spent, Otabek rolls off, eyes up, gazing at the ceiling, still not entirely awake. The image of Yuri naked beneath him, clinging to him and coming, fresh in his mind.  
It’s one of the top things on his list that are greatly improved if Yuri is there— _coming_. 

After they’ve wiped themselves clean, Otabek laces their fingers, his breath still catching up to him.  
Yuri turns his head to look at him but doesn’t say anything. Otabek doesn’t need him to.

Yuri says hardly anything for most of the morning.  
Otabek doesn’t either.

They still do their stretching and training downstairs, Otabek still puts on the playlist he made for them. They still kiss far too long in the shower, Otabek’s mouth lingering wherever it wants on Yuri’s body under the hot stream. They still eat their typical late breakfast that’s always more of a lunch. Yuri still fills Otabek’s mug. Still squirms and smiles when Otabek nuzzles in his neck as they rinse their dishes, but still- little to no words are spoken.

When Otabek tries to find his own he can’t. He considers saying a non-important comment but nothing feels right. Everything he thinks to say feels performative. Like he’s doing it to force a mood that neither one can genuinely be in.

All Otabek can be is grateful Yuri is here with him. Even if he’s silent. Even if his eyes have a curtain of gray over them. Even if the air around both of them is thick in sadness.  
It seems so undeserving, considering the amount of time they spent hurting for each other before. Because at least now they know. At least now they’re together.  
But it’s there. Maybe that’s expected.  
There are so many unanswered questions still-  
Otabek doesn’t know when he’s seeing Yuri again. And even though it’s his last year... what happens once the skating season is over remains uncertain. Otabek doesn’t know what the time frame will be for his inevitable move. Even though it’s painted under his skin and bleeding through more every day. Which... is new.

Otabek never planned on living in Almaty forever. No one expected him to. Which is why it meant so much when he was able secure his training there- so he could make up for all the time he lost with his family before then. And the inevitable after.  
Otabek’s mother always said he had a countdown to leave Almaty floating above his head from the day he was born. She’d say it with a held back look in her eye that said she wished he didn’t.

Yet, despite knowing he would eventually leave, Otabek never felt himself in any rush to. Especially with his career and training taking up so much of his time. And because he’s always taken advantage of the traveling portion of his life- the idleness he always had growing up was kept far away at bay.  
For as long as he can remember, going home has always had an ingrained sense of comfort. A comfort that stemmed from when he was far too young to be missing it as often as he did. _But_ -

He watches Yuri mutter something to Potya as he sets her food down on the floor. 

Otabek doesn’t want to leave.  
It’s the first time, for him, that the idea of going back home doesn’t bring any sense of relief. There’s _nothing_ he’s looking forward to. Normally, at the very least, Otabek can look forward to stepping into his own space.  
But it’s not there.  
He doesn’t want it.  
Doesn’t want to take a single step past his own front door.  
Yuri isn’t anywhere. Otabek has a few shirts that smell like him. A couple of photos and a handful of notes. But it’s not Yuri.  
It’s not here.  
It’s not this apartment. Otabek felt comfortable the moment he walked in. He’s found places for himself here, making them his own.  
It felt as natural as his own.  
The only difference was Yuri.  
Here, Yuri sits with him in the spaces Otabek made for himself. Makes him laugh. Kisses him. Pulls him away so he can kiss him somewhere else- Love him somewhere else.  
Yuri was everywhere here.  
The way Otabek always wanted him to be. 

They’re at the couch now.  
Yuri’s leaning back into his chest, stretched out between Otabek’s legs. They’re staring out the window, Otabek has his arms crossed over Yuri’s upper chest, holding him close. They had talked about watching something but neither one could focus much on anything, so they left the TV off, surrendering to the bleakness that is today. 

And while Otabek understands Yuri’s silence and the sadness that comes from it, Otabek still has this... nagging whisper of a fear in his chest. He refuses to give it an actual voice.  
He just wishes it would go away.  
He knows it has no business here.  
But.  
With Yuri’s past habit of- _well_... leaving.... it’s hard to erase completely.  
Because from what Otabek has experienced, Yuri has a habit of leaving when he’s feeling something he wishes he wasn’t. And he doesn’t just leave. When Yuri leaves he falls clean off the face of the earth.

And this whisper, putting dark thoughts in Otabek’s head-  
It says Yuri might go for a walk and never come back.  
It shows Yuri saying goodbye to him tomorrow and then flashes forward to a future where Otabek never hears from him again.  
It’s awful.  
_It has no right_.  
Otabek wants to tear it apart.

It scares him.  
Lord knows, Otabek is trying to be better at not leaving Yuri to deal with all the less-than-desirable feelings that come in a relationship let alone a long-distance one... but it’s hard for Otabek to not worry he’s missing one. Otabek recognizes his own blindness. Even with his lifetime determination to get better, it’s still a blindness. He’s not like Yuri. Recognizing each fabric of a feeling sewn into the quilt of an outcome isn’t something that comes naturally to Otabek- and he’s sure to overlook a glaring one again. And by the time he’d find out, maybe it’ll be too late...  
And Otabek would never recover. If he lost him again- after all this. After being with him now...

Yuri is _so quiet_ today.

Otabek kisses the top of Yuri’s head and holds it.  
_Yuri is here though-_  
Yuri’s words to him in Oslo replay in his mind-

 _Okay, well..._  
_God_ \- Otabek sighs and rolls his eyes at himself  
He really should have known to do that earlier  
_Of course_ that helped.  
It would be unfair to regard Yuri’s promises as anything other than the gold seal they’ve proven themselves to be. When Yuri makes one, it’s as if he’s rewriting himsel-

The sound of Yuri struggling interrupts Otabek from his thoughts.  
“ _Ah_ \- Sorry-“ Otabek hurries it out, releasing him. Without realizing it, he’d been increasingly squeezing Yuri tighter and tighter into his chest.  
Yuri pushes his arms away, breaking out from Otabek’s embrace and getting up, not looking back as he stalks towards the kitchen. 

Otabek almost gets up to bring him back, but stops.  
It wouldn’t help.

He wishes he could do something.  
_Anything_.  
He should try to find another weekend, at least. Maybe a three day weekend he could be here for. He could even make it a surprise, he pulls his phone out to write a note to himself to get in touch with Yuuri for a good set of dates. _Yes_.  
Otabek takes a deep breath and stands, looking over at him in the kitchen, “Tea?”

“Tea.” Yuri holds a mug up, petting Potya flopped on the counter next to him.  
Otabek walks over and pours himself a mug but not before leaning his head down to kiss the bare skin exposed from the loose collar of Yuri’s sweater.  
_It’s a lovely sweater_ , Otabek thinks. He’s been admiring it all morning.  
Sea green and slightly oversized. Not a color he normally sees Yuri in. It’s soft against Yuri’s skin, and it makes his eyes strike sharp against the overcast backdrop blaring from the windows.  
He’s heartbreaking, really. With the thick grey clouds behind him, Otabek sees him as the the underbelly of ocean waves crashing breathtakingly into a cliff. All the thoughtful sadness looming behind his eyes tinting them to a darker and darker shade.

“I’m making borscht tonight.” Yuri says suddenly. 

Otabek lifts his head, surprised, “ _That_ \- that will be incredible, surely.”

“Mm. TV?”

Otabek nods to him, mug at his lips. 

“TV.” Yuri echoes himself and picks up Potya with his spare hand, returning to the living room, Otabek following them.  
They spread back out on the couch, this time facing forward, Yuri leaning on Otabek’s shoulder, white fluffy cat in his lap, and Otabek’s fingers in his hair.  
Once they hit play on something, Otabek tries to sink in more but tenses when he feels something wet soaking into his shirt where Yuri’s face is pressed in.  
_God_.  
It kills him.  
He hopes.... he _really_ hopes... that Yuri doesn’t just wish he was already gone-  
_Stop_.  
Doesn’t wish he never came at all-  
_No_  
Otabek balls his hands up.  
_Why_  
_Why_ are minds so damn determined to break the hearts they need to them alive? It doesn’t make any sense.

After a couple episodes Yuri stretches out and then tiredly gets up, “Keep it on. I’m gonna make food-“

“Can I help?”

Yuri shakes his head, “I’ve made borscht enough I could make it in my sleep.” He leans down to plant a light kiss on Otabek’s lips, “You’d just slow me down.” He says it with a small playful smile before heading to the kitchen.  
Otabek’s eyes soften after him, the squeeze on his heart loosening.  
He reaches out a hand to Potya who shuffles over and decides his lap will do as a substitute.  
He still _really_ wishes he could do something

When they do have dinner, the silence stays but isn’t nearly as bleak because Yuri’s cheeks are pink for most of it and he smiles through his spoonfuls from all the unconscious sounds of astonishment Otabek makes as he’s eating.  
Add that to the list.  
_Eating_. Eating is better if Yuri is there. Honestly, _food_ in general is better with Yuri there. Otabek can’t believe he’ll be stuck with his own ‘cooking’ again after this.

After his third helping, Otabek goes to grab Yuri’s bowl to take to the sink-

“Mm. No. I’ll do it.”

Otabek shakes his head, “I clean, Yuri.”

“No. You need to pack.”

Otabek’s brow furrows, his arm paused on reaching for Yuri’s bowl, “I can pack later-“

“No.” Yuri bites behind his lip, shifting his gaze down to the counter. “Do it now.”

Otabek doesn’t understand,  
_Why_ -  
He opens his mouth to say something but Yuri interrupts him-

“I don’t want to watch it.” Yuri looks at him, eyes heavy, “Let me clean.”

Otabek closes his mouth, eyes matching Yuri’s in weight. He gives a half nod.  
Both going to their respective tasks. 

Dragging himself over to the bedroom, Otabek begins folding his clothes and stacking them into his suitcase.  
It’s terrible.  
_Really_ terrible.  
Everything he pulls out and sets inside feels like an added layer over his lungs.  
At several points he has to pause. Remind himself what the hell it is he’s doing. And why.  
Because he hasn’t retired yet.  
Because his family doesn’t even know it’s Yuri yet.  
Because there are people who depend on him. People whose careers are shaped most prominently by his and the decisions he makes.  
It’s not as simple as him wanting to stay.  
And there is _no one_ who understands that more than Yuri.  
They both know why.

Packing the last of his clothes Otabek moves on to the bathroom. Then the living room. Then takes his backpack downstairs with him to start packing up the study area.  
Nearing the end, he sits down at the desk, leaning his head back and slumping in the chair. A long sigh blows out his lips. He stares out the window. Bringing a hand up to his forehead, he presses in, closing his eyes and letting the pain ache freely in him everywhere. 

_It’s_ -  
Terrible. 

Once he’s finished he swings his bag over his shoulder and trudges back up the stairs. 

_Yuri_ -

Otabek pauses at the top.  
Yuri is curled up on the couch, fast asleep, both cats draped over different parts of him. 

_God_  
Otabek curses this time. His bag sliding off his shoulder, all the way to the ground as he stares on helplessly. 

He’s never wished so much he was already retired. 

It’s a throbbing pain. 

But-  
There was this one idea Otabek had...  
Something he thought he could do tonight.  
He wasn’t sure. He kept doubting and changing his mind out of fear.  
_But_ -  
His face softens over Yuri sleeping.  
_Mm_ He has to now. 

Making as little noise as possible, Otabek sits down across from Yuri at the coffee table, then pulls his laptop out from his bag and fishes for his headphones, plugging them in and pulling them up over his ears.  
Quickly, he goes to work, making final edits, trying not to focus too much on the nervous flutter below his chest. His eyes glancing up at Yuri whenever the fluttering becomes too strong-  
He _has to_

...  


Time passes.  
By now, night has taken over the apartment.  
The low light from the kitchen and the table lamps on the end tables by the bed do little to brighten much of anything, it’s only the blue tones from Otabek’s laptop screen that illuminate his face and behind him.  
Yuri stirs.  
Otabek pauses on Yuri’s eyes opening with his legs stretching out as Baba Yaga makes a disgruntled face and hops down.

Otabek pulls his headphones off, “Hey.” 

Yuri softens his mouth, “Mm. Hey.”  
Otabek feels such love for him, watching Yuri slowly sit up, rubbing his eyes, mouth still in a sleepy pout. 

“You need anything? Tea?” Otabek asks. 

Yuri shakes his head, sniffing, sadness quickly filling back over his face, too tired to hold it back.  
Otabek tenses and looks at his computer, hoping, _really hoping_ what he’s about to offer will help. _It’s something at least_. Maybe. 

Yuri stares out the window. He looks disappointed. At everything. 

“Yuri?”

Yuri turns to him.

Otabek swallows and motions to his computer in front him, “Would you want to listen?”

Eyes lock. 

Yuri blinks, an alertness waking up behind his eyes. “Mm.”

All the breath leaves Otabek’s body. “It’s just one track _but_ -“ Otabek cringes at his own words, “Maybe if you don’t hate it, which you can, obviously- but if you don’t... there could be more-”

Yuri looks like he’s going to say something but doesn’t. Keeping his lips tight and giving a quick nod.

Otabek takes his headphones off and stands up. Bringing his laptop with him to the other end of the couch. He hands over the headphones and brings the track up on his screen.  
Carefully, Yuri stretches the headphones over his ears and sits back, bringing his knees up, arms crossed over his chest. Waiting.

Sweat forms, bleeding at the top of Otabek’s forehead and the back of his neck.  
Before he can coward out he clicks the trackpad over the Play button and snaps his hand back.  
Waiting.  
Keeping his eyes glued on the progress bar. Watching as the dial moves slowly down the track.  
Thankfully it’s not _that long_ of a track.

Yuri’s the first person he’s played anything for. Well- his cousins had to hear some of it since they’re playing portions of what he composed.  
He’s lucky that they’ve always been eagerly willing to play pieces he’s written- No matter how experimental. Being able to summon the sounds of a cello or violin whenever he has an idea isn’t something Otabek has ever taken for granted.  
But even they never heard a finished piece. 

Despite his growing comfortability with music it’s never quieted the dread he had about this part- the part where he has to wait, watching as someone listens to something he worked on. It’s why he’s always wanted the first person to be Yuri- Otabek assumed if he could make it through that, he could make it through anyone.

Yuri listens without moving a muscle. Eyes down.  
Otabek tries not to fixate on him so he keeps his gaze on the screen, his hands squeezing in his lap, intestines squeezing behind his naval. 

Yuri may have turned to stone.  
Hasn’t fidgeted.  
Completely still.

Otabek is going to sweat straight through the couch. His heart might actually throw itself up and out his body.  
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this will cement something for Yuri. Maybe all Otabek did was cause Yuri to push him out the door faster. 

Nearly finished now.  
Coming up on the end.  
This was an awful idea-  
Regret fills him.  
And finally...  
_Finally_ the track hits the end mark.  
Silence.  
Every second hurts.  
He hated it. He must have hated it. Otabek should have warned him first that his music wasn’t for everyone, that it might be messy, that it wasn’t meant to be on any chart or-  
Otabek braces himself and looks up at him.

Calmly, Yuri takes the headphones off.  
He doesn’t look at Otabek. Doesn’t move. Stares at the part of the floor connecting to the wall, lost in thought. 

“We have to go.”  
Yuri says it, getting up, setting the headphones back near Otabek’s lap without looking. 

“ _What_ -“

“We have to go. Take your computer. Do either of your headphones work wirelessly?”  
It’s like Otabek just got a bucket of cold water thrown on him. 

“ _Uh_ \- I do. I have another pair that- yes-“ Otabek fumbles wrapping the headphones up.

“Bring them. We’re going.”

“Yuri-“ Otabek sits up, walking after him, laptop folded under his arm, headphones around his neck as he walks towards his bag for the other pair.  
Yuri is already putting on a jacket and his shoes. Face blank. Unreadable.  
Otabek throws his hoodie and jacket on, headphone case gripped tightly in his hand, laptop under one arm, wired headphones still clasped around his neck.  
Yuri looks back briefly, keys in hand, opening the door. “Ready?”

...  


Otabek’s mind is spinning too much to ask Yuri what he wants to ask. He couldn’t pick out a thought if he tried.  
So he sits in the car, face turned out the window, watching the lights blur past them as Yuri takes a familiar route through the city.  
It’s late. Hardly any other cars out in this part-  
Otabek chokes back an inhale when he realizes where they are.  
It’s the studio. They’ve parked near the dance studio.

 _What_ -

Yuri’s already unbuckled and opening his car door. Otabek continues fumbling after him. Clutching all his gear, following Yuri a few paces away. They both have their hoods up, heads down. Walking fast against the chilled night air towards the old unremarkable building about a block away.  
When they get to the entrance, Yuri pulls out a different set of keys and with some effort pushes the door open for them. It’s pitch black inside except for an exit sign and the faint haze of the street lights through the fogged windows. Their sounds echo with every step.  
They hurriedly climb the center stairs and Yuri pushes opens one more heavy squeaking door, revealing the big familiar open room Otabek has grown so fond of sitting in at morning.  
Yuri flips the lights on and dials them down to their lowest setting before peeling his jacket off and throwing it to the side. 

“Can you pair the wireless ones up?” He’s chucking his shoes off and pulling off his sweater, adjusting the white undershirt he has on under and stretching out his arms. 

Otabek looks breathlessly at him, trying very hard to catch up to what’s happening or about to happen- He manages a “yeah.”

“Start playing it whenever.”

Otabek nods. He holds the wireless headphones out to to Yuri, toggling them on with the nail of his thumb. Yuri takes them, still not looking at him, mouth a straight line. 

Otabek slides down against the wall and flips open his computer, connecting wirelessly to the headphones Yuri is pulling up over his ears while pulling up and plugging in his own.  
He swallows, then clicks the the play button, resting the computer down to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest, and trying very hard to breathe.  
Eyes glued ahead.

The track opens.  
Yuri’s head tips to the side. His gaze far away, eyes staring down.  
Turning away from Otabek, Yuri casually moves towards the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, face buried deep in thought. 

Otabek waits on baited breath, watching close.

Yuri stops.  
His normally rolled shoulders pull back, transforming the line of his spine so it uncurls the length of his back. Standing perfectly straight, he faces the mirror but doesn’t look at it. The darkened city to his left and Otabek sitting back against the other wall of mirrors to his right. 

Yuri’s lost.  
Lost in something. Listening.  
When the first swell of strings occurs, Yuri’s face no longer looks like it’s crowded by thoughts. It falls. And lightly- _so_ lightly- Yuri starts to float- one leg lifting with the swell of the sound.

Otabek grips tighter around his knees practically cutting out his circulation. 

Yuri’s eyes close, his back curves, and his hands fall out from his pockets to reach up and out, guiding themselves with his leg. Reaching. And then folding.

The music that Otabek spent years on, learning, picking at, ruminating over, motivated by, it’s in front of him now, _moving_ in front of him, through Yuri’s bones, his muscles, his limbs, his face, his music using Yuri’s body as a vessel. Every dip and pause and rise in the notes is alive, living in Yuri, despite him only having listened to it once before. It doesn’t matter. It’s as if Yuri knows every feeling, every moment, every thought Otabek poured into it- all of it inside of him, radiating out-  
_It_ -  
It has never been fair.  
Tears fall down Otabek’s face. 

Being here. In this silent empty dance studio in the middle of the night. Not even the music playing out. Only secretly, only for them.  
Music Otabek made, meant only for Yuri to hear.  
Yuri breathing life into it, only for Otabek to see.  


As the last notes linger, taking their final breath, Otabek looks out, heart shaking, face wet, and having lost all ability to speak. 

Yuri stills, slowing his rotation, and relaxing his spine. 

Silent.

They stare at each other. Yuri’s eyes look wet but aren’t quite crying. Otabek _definitely_ crying.  
Yuri brings the headphones down to his neck. He smiles.  
It heals everything. 

Carefully, Otabek stands and crosses over, stopping in front of him, not sure what or how he’s going to say anything with his throat clogged like it is.

Yuri bites behind his lip, smiling wider,  
“I like it.” He says it so simply. 

Otabek laughs, wiping his hand against the wet tear stains on his own cheeks, wave after wave of relief crashing into his chest. “Yeah?” He chokes out. 

Yuri nods, beaming, “I think it’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.” His hands go up around Otabek’s neck. “I want to work on it with Yuuri.”

Otabek might be crying again, he doesn’t know.  
It means everything. Because there’s no one whose talent and opinion he respects more than the person he’s staring at right now. There is no one he has tried to prove himself worthy enough more than this person. His heart is so heavy in love it might have actually dropped and splattered out of him this time.  
He doesn’t know how to respond, so he just keeps smiling, and nodding his thanks. “You’re _uhm_ -“ Otabek squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the last of his tears crawl out from his eyes, Yuri looks at him concerned. Reaching a hand to his cheek.  
Otabek leans into it, sighing, “I really love you, Yuri-“

Yuri brings their lips together. The boiling desperate desire Otabek felt all day simmering beneath his skin now surges and burns, raging fire. Otabek wraps his arms around Yuri’s waist, pulling him in close, hungry, and pleading.  
Remembering just moments ago being breathless at the body moving in front of him, movements guided by notes Otabek had been piecing together for _years_ \- all while hurting for him.  
Otabek pushes up Yuri’s shirt, his hands needing him.  
Yuri moans in response, sucking out his tongue, fingers working the button of Otabek’s pants.  
“Yuri-“

Yuri makes an impatient sound and breaks out from him, turning away and jogging to the other side of the room. Behind a few stacked chairs, Yuri pulls out an old gym bag and reaches inside, proudly displaying a bottle of lube in his hand as he makes his way back, flicking the lights out entirely. 

Otabek stares back, impressed and speechless. 

“I put it here as soon as I knew you were visiting-“ Yuri states it with a breathless grin, “I told you I prepared. _Just in case_...” Yuri twists the cap open and discards the seal, spinning the top back on. 

Otabek smirks.  
Yuri smirks back. He leans in and licks against Otabek’s lips before pulling him back into a slow open kiss. Otabek grips into his cheek, a low whine coming from the neediness in his own chest.  
“ _I want you_ -“ Yuri whispers low. 

Otabek’s face pains at the words, gripping Yuri’s shirt in his fingers. “ _I_ -“ he grits, “Yes-“

Yuri pulls Otabek down with him to the floor, guiding Otabek over him, his tongue pushing deep into Otabek’s mouth, flames dancing with his own.  
Otabek sits up to pull his shirt and pants off with Yuri doing the same.  
Hurriedly, Otabek lays their clothes out, even reaching over for Yuri’s sweater and moves for Yuri to lay over them. 

“Oh my god, Otabek. Really? You are- _not_ a real person-”  
Otabek smiles, kissing him again. Knowing full well Yuri would have done the same. 

Yuri pulls him in tight, his mouth refusing to part, leaning back down, bringing Otabek’s weight between his spread legs.  
Otabek breaks off to breathe in and drown Yuri’s neck with his lips and his tongue. Yuri sighs happily, wrapping his legs around Otabek’s hips, bringing him in so their bare cocks press hot against each other.  
Yuri grinds up into him and Otabek pauses his mouth, eyes closing from the spark it lights. 

He captures Yuri’s lips again, his fingers lightly brushing Yuri’s hair back, as he grinds harder into Yuri’s cock.  
Yuri moans, pressing up more. He twists his head, guiding Otabek’s finger into his perfect mouth- sucking, taking it in all the way and wrapping his tongue around it. Their eyes meet, and Yuri locks on with lust piercing into Otabek’s irises, sliding his lips off with a pant of his breath. 

Otabek shifts, bringing his lower half higher so he can reach between Yuri’s legs.  
Yuri nods, biting into his own lower lip- staring up at him, hips vibrating for Otabek to fill him with some part of himself. “ _Go_ -“

Otabek covers Yuri’s lips, the tips of their tongues touching, the same finger Yuri drenched in his mouth now pressing deep inside the heat between Yuri’s legs. 

Yuri writhes, a wave of relief reverberating through him- Otabek throbs from it. His cock growing hot, soaking the head with the come that it so desperately wants to fill the heaven inside. 

Otabek strokes inside, teasing and gently warming up the space that hugs him close. He grabs the lube, slipping out to coat the rest of his fingers. 

He pushes two in, feeding off of the way Yuri moves beneath him, reacts to him inside, the sounds freeing themselves from his throat like they’ve been caught there all day. Otabek watches him, eyes never leaving Yuri’s face, drinking in the willing surrender taking over his body. Otabek spreads his fingers as he fucks them in, scissoring against his walls.  
Yuri cries, his breath hitched in his throat.  
Otabek inserts another, this time curling them. 

“ _Yes_ -“ Yuri looks up at him, lips parted. Come glistening over his cock. He brings Otabek’s face down to his, kissing him like he’s starved and Otabek continues fucking him with the curl of his fingers beckoning over the spot that makes Yuri shake until he breaks. “ _Mm_ \- I want to ride you-“

The words alone nearly push Otabek over the edge. He pulls his drenched fingers out and brings himself down, switching places with Yuri, whose already leaning over and running his tongue down the length of Otabek’s body, biting into him and sucking against every ridge in his way. Otabek sighs looking down, his fingers gently raking through Yuri’s hair.  
Yuri slides further down, glancing up once before taking Otabek’s bulging cock into his mouth and bobbing. Slicking it in his mouth, his tongue twisting over him, dragging him down into ectasy. Otabek holds in a breath, clenching his jaw as he watches Yuri feed so hungrily on him. Flashing back to the times he’d imagined this, his own cock gripped in his hand, imagining it was Yuri, squeezing him with the suction behind his lips, looking up at him like this. Like it was everything he’d ever wanted. Otabek groans and moves his hips with the soaked strokes of Yuri’s mouth. It drives him absolutely insane, the way Yuri’s lips form around his shaft, wet and flushed, pumping him.  
“Yuri-“

Yuri pops off the top and sits tall, lining himself up over Otabek’s dick, eyes half-lidded looking down at him, an eager panting grin spreading over his face.  
Squeezing lube into his hands, Yuri strokes slow over Otabek’s cock, stroking over the spit from his mouth and the come and the lube, watching Otabek twitch from the anticipation. Wet slaps echoing from his sliding grip.  
Otabek swallows, staring up, his fingers digging bruises into Yuri’s perfectly muscled thighs.  
Yuri stills his hand, lifting himself and guiding the head to his entrance. And slowly with his eyes closed, Yuri sinks.  
Otabek lets out a long groan, head tilting all the way back.

Yuri is hot and clenching him so incomprehensibly. And this angle it’s... _not possible_. It’s always absolutely impossible for it not to haunt Otabek the rest of his life. Yuri’s long lean torso rising tall above him, the muscles in his stomach hard and flexed, the lines around his shoulders as his arms go from gripping Otabek’s chest to rising up and running through his own hair, pushing it to the side and out of his face, Yuri’s dick hard, throbbing and leaking-  
All Otabek wants is to fuck into him senseless.

Yuri starts to rise again, pushing up from his palms against Otabek’s chest, his nails digging into his hard muscled flesh. He sinks back down.  
“ _Oh my god_ -“ Yuri laughs as he says it, eyes closed, whipping his hair to the side, his hips rolling in a slow steady pace over Otabek’s dick. Losing himself.

Otabek can’t stop touching him. Feeling him everywhere and watching the way his hands knead into Yuri’s skin. The way Yuri’s body responds to his hands kneading into him. The way Yuri’s body is responding to his cock in him.  
The way Yuri’s cock bounces with every pump. Strong and flushed against the glow of his skin in the night. Otabek brings his hand up to it, worshipping it, slicking it up and down from the precome it’s already flooded itself in.  
Yuri whimpers, leaning down letting his ass pump faster as Otabek strokes him. “Fuck- _yes_ -“  
Otabek feels the glimmer of lights filling between his legs. He starts thrusting up harder, pointed and aggressive. Yuri’s mouth falls open, crying into the space between him and Otabek’s chest.

Otabek twists his grip, sliding his other hand behind, feeling for Yuri’s ass, and exhaling pleasure when he claws into it, flesh ripe, and moving for him. Otabek pushes down with every thrust up. Guiding it up and down. Otabek moans, letting himself be enveloped by Yuri’s perfection as he guides every pound of Yuri’s ass over his own hard cock.

Yuri makes a needy whine, sitting up straight, his thighs becoming determined to ride Otabek hard to orgasm. He rolls even faster. Otabek pushing up with him. Meeting his speed.  
Their eyes lock.  
Otabek feels a dam on the precipice of breaking inside him. He can’t understand how Yuri can do this. How his body elicits such a primal guttural need in him. How his sounds practically stroke Otabek’s dick themselves.  
“Yuri-“

“Mm-“

“ _Yuri_ -“

“ _Harder_ \- fuck harder-“  
Otabek squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts up in quick deep aggressive pumps- Yuri’s lips spread into smile, mouth open, eyes roll into his head as he falls over, unable to move his thighs anymore from the overwhelming pleasure of Otabek vibrating into him with unrelenting harsh thrusts, pressing against the deepest part of him.  
“ _Oh god_ -“

Otabek makes a frustrated sound, a demanding sound, wanting to push more, a sudden need to have more control, to command Yuri’s orgasm in every possible way. He grips at Yuri’s waist and switches their positions, slipping out from him. Yuri gives a surprised yelp but then laughs and bites his lip happily, looking up at him legs open and ready for Otabek to reenter.  
_No_  
He grips Yuri’s hips, dips down, and brings Yuri’s ass to his face, pushing his tongue down the wet hole that blanketed him seconds ago in bliss.

“Fuck!-“ Yuri rolls his head back, squirming and twisting his body for Otabek to go deeper, his arms over his face, Otabek lifting Yuri’s hips to his face and fucking him with his tongue. “ _Otabek_ -“ Yuri looks at him, his eyes crying-

Otabek is lost, his tongue lapping at his walls and sucking back on the skin.

“Yes- _oh_ , fuuuuuu-“ Yuri slams his head back.  
Otabek buries his face deeper, fucking him with his mouth and sliding a finger in to join him.

Otabek fucks him faster, reaching further, emptying his lungs entirely so he can fuck Yuri to his orgasm.  
“Fuck, _Otabek!_ -“

Yuri twitches and curses into his hand before his whole body breaks out in an uncontrollable shaking mess, his dick pulsing and untouched as he spills onto his stomach, his whines echoing in the room with every passing wave as Otabek continues lapping inside him, his finger curled against the part that Otabek worships most.

When Yuri’s shudders start to calm, Otabek pulls his face and fingers out, slowly kissing between his thighs before moving to his cock to drink the come that freshly spilled.  
Yuri has an arm over his forehead, a pained look watching Otabek sucking in every drop of him- when it gets too much Yuri moves his arm over his eyes. Otabek gives one last kiss to his shaft before pulling himself up, brushing his fingers through Yuri’s hair, kissing his forehead. 

Yuri peeks out from under his forearm, eyes wet.  
Otabek smiles, nuzzling against his arm, encouraging him to move it. Yuri obliges, bringing Otabek’s face down to kiss him, his other hand reaching down for Otabek’s cock trying to move it between his legs. Otabek sighs into his mouth and pulls up. “We don’t have to Yuri-“

“Don’t-” Yuri pushes back the damp hair sticking to Otabek’s forehead, “ _Fuck me_. I need you- in me. I need you to come _so fucking deep_ \- Please.“  
Otabek closes his eyes and realigns himself, letting Yuri position him. Even though he’s still slick from before, Otabek squeezes more lube into Yuri’s hand anyway. Yuri smiles up and strokes him, covering him with a fresh layer.

When he pushes in this time, it’s different from before. Otabek goes slow. Almost like their first time. Wanting to mentally record every moment. And Yuri stays, holding him close while his hands admire the muscles in Otabek’s arms, his shoulders. Spreading his thighs more and wrapping his legs around him, digging his heels in to go deeper. Otabek can go slow but he has to go deeper.

They kiss. Tender and sweet.  
Yuri hums against the side of his face, murmuring into his ear.  
“I love you-“  
Otabek feels his insides clench from it.  
Yuri says it over and over.  
“ _I love you_ -“  
Otabek groans, pleasure filling fast up from his abdomen. He presses his face into Yuri’s neck, eyes squeezed shut.  
“You’re all I want-“

Otabek gasps, feeling himself grow even heavier, his cock taking over and commanding the speed of his thrusts.

“You’re _so fucking beautiful_ , Otabek-“

The warmth rises higher and higher. Yuri’s heels dig deeper, his hips pumping up to him. Otabek becoming mesmerized by his face. Yuri’s face in the night looked like the moon and the stars all glowing inside him. Otabek dips his head with a strangled sound.  
Yuri is whispering and kissing his ear. Telling him he needs him. Only him. Overflowing him with words Otabek only ever thought he’d hear when he closed his eyes.  
Otabek braces himself, pressing his head into the space below Yuri’s collarbone, then snaps his hips, plunging himself as deep as he can-  
_Falling_  
He cries, a violent wave passing through him as he releases everything that’s been inside him deep into Yuri’s warmth. Filling him. _Feeling_ himself fill him. Yuri smiles, pumping up into him, needing every drop to be caught and soaked inside. 

Otabek trembles, collapsing over him.  
A pleased hum echoes from Yuri’s chest as he holds Otabek close, kissing the top of his head over and over.

It takes some time before they move.  
They breathe. Otabek collects himself. Once the lingering shakes at his core ease away, Otabek shifts, laying on the bare floor, facing him, every meter for himself full. 

Yuri sits up to grab the shirt that’s tangled up from under his legs and balls it up then presses it in to go under Otabek’s head. 

Otabek smiles and lifts, letting it pillow the side of his face. “Thank you.”

Yuri settles back down, staring at him. Fingers reaching for Otabek’s cheek, lightly touching it. Sadness filling behind his eyes.  
“I miss you.”

It aches.  
Otabek scoots closer, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I miss you.” 

Yuri’s eyes stare into him, wetting fast. He bites behind his lip, apprehensive by whatever is behind them.  
“Do you still want to move?”

Otabek nods, wishing again how he could melt their thoughts so Yuri could understand. “Very much. Yes.” The corner of his mouth tugs up, “Will you still have me?”

Yuri shakes his head seriously. “Nope. “

Otabek smiles fondly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “I’ll have to try again.”

“I want you to move.” Yuri says it softly, as Otabek pulls back. He bites behind his lip, “Please, move.”

Otabek cups the back of his head and brings him in, “I am. I will. _I_ -“ he kisses Yuri’s temple, “Honestly, I don’t even want to go back.”

Yuri twists his head out to look at him, “You don’t?”

Otabek shakes his head, sighing at the baseless anxiousness staring back from Yuri’s eyes. “You’re not there, Yuri. Why would I want to go back?”

“ _I_ -“ Yuri stutters out a sound. “I thought- today, I thought you weren’t saying anything because you were afraid I’d get more sad if I knew you were looking forward to going home.” He sniffs, rolling his eyes, “Which is fucking fine. You can want to go home- it’s your fucking hom-“

“You’re not there.” Otabek repeats it, brushing his hair back. “I’m going to step into that apartment and you won’t be anywhere.”

Yuri stares at him, face settling. “No cats.”

“No cats,” Otabek echoes. 

“No homemade food.”

Otabek groans, “Definitely not.”

Yuri traces his finger over Otabek’s shoulder. “At least you won’t have the ghost of me everywhere. Every god damned sound the cats make my dumbass head is gonna think is you and be immediately disappointed.”

“I’d rather have the ghost of you than no you.”

Yuri sighs, burying himself in more, legs curled under him.  
“I’m sorry I’ve been sad as shit all day. “ 

Otabek squeezes him in, “ _It’s_ \- no. I was too.” He hesitates on a thought, “Thank you for- staying. With me.”

Yuri shifts, looking up, “Were you worried I was gonna leave?”

Otabek stares down at him, eyes answering it on their own, “Suppose that was my turn to share an irrational fear from today.”

Yuri presses his lips into the base of Otabek’s neck, “Kill it. I’m not leaving.” He nips into the skin, “Not disappearing,” His tongue licks at the spot that makes Otabek twitch, “Not going anywhere. You tell me next time it happens so I can say this shit- I’ll even include diagrams.”

Otabek nods, “Mm. The diagrams might help.”

Yuri makes a muffled sound against his chest, “Today might be shit but I’d still take it over all those other days when I thought you’d never want to touch my penis.”

Otabek breaks out laughing, bringing a hand to his head.

Yuri pulls back, looking up, trailing after Otabek’s laughter with his own, “I mean it-”

Otabek smiles and nods. “ _I_ \- Mm.”

Yuri pinches into Otabek’s waist, eyes sparkling back. “It was sad! I was sad!”

“God, Yuri.” Otabek shakes his head, tucking Yuri’s hair back, keeping his hand cupped along the shell of his ear. “You know I made that whole track, pieced it together for years trying to make it _just_ right- all because I was looking for some way to express all the heartbreak I felt when I thought of you- and- you make _one_ sentence that articulates it far more poetically than all of my wasted effort.”

Yuri bubbles up with laughter, knotting their legs together, “Shut up! I’m poetic as shit. Here- you should name the track ‘I’m very sad because I don’t think Yuri Plisetsky wants to touch my penis’.”

Otabek smiles wide, shaking his head, “I mean-“ he has no counter, “-That wouldn’t _not_ be accurate.” Otabek kisses his head, “I bet that summarizes the inspiration for most music...“

“What, someone is sad about someone else not wanting to touch their penis?”

“Yes.” Otabek leads them laughing again. 

Yuri settles and he looks down smiling, “Mm,” heat flushes his cheeks. “It is about me though?”

Otabek nods, “It is.” He trails his fingers down Yuri’s arms, “I _uhm_ \- I made it for you. Even before _we_ \- I always made it- with the intent to give it to you some day.”

Yuri stares at him, eyes soft. He goes to say something but stops himself, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s neck and bringing their lips together instead. “I had to get here-“ Yuri says it into Otabek’s mouth, “It was so weird, my brain went fucking nuts when I heard it- _I couldn’t_ \- I just needed to get here cause I didn’t want to lose it.” He holds Otabek’s face, “It’s good, Otabek. _Really_ fucking good.” Yuri kisses his top lip, “It’s so fucking hot when you do that- when you’re like- so fucking _good_... _I’m_ \- Mm.“ He smiles wide, shaking his head, “I’m obsessed with you-”

Otabek stares into the face in front of him and the genius that lives behind it telling him this.  
“Yura.”

Yuri furrows his brow.

Heat rises up into Otabek’s face, “That’s _the_ \- the name of the track. I titled it ‘Yura’. It’s always been Yura.” A strong pull is dragging down Otabek’s chest, his heart is pounding and he doesn’t even understand why. 

Yuri’s eyes stare back wide and then his lips cover him, kissing Otabek’s cheeks, his forehead, his temples, his nose, his chin, every part of his face, their limbs tangling, their mouths finding each other and refusing to break away.  
Time does stop. _Finally_. It took all day, but finally they found a way to keep it from moving. Found it kissing naked and unhurried on the dance studio floor.  
It isn’t until the surface below starts to wear on them and the chill air of the night becomes inescapable that they finally have to pause- their lips parting, freeing the hands on the clock to move forward again. 

Yuri blinks sadly then kisses his nose, “Let’s go.”

Otabek closes his eyes and nods. Hands reflexively gripping in tighter, not wanting to part from Yuri’s waist. 

They get up. Collecting their clothes and dressing. Otabek pulls his shoes on, tying up the laces while Yuri packs Otabek’s headphones up and walks behind him to clasp the other pair around Otabek’s neck. 

Otabek looks up, “Thank you.” 

Yuri smiles and throws on his jacket, holding Otabek’s headphone case and laptop to his chest, leaning back close to the door. 

Otabek stands, pulling on his jacket then reaching back for his hood and bringing it up. Yuri mirrors him, bringing his hood up, eyes still watching, mouth still smiling. His face relaxed and beautiful against the dark light of the midnight sky flooding through the windows. 

“I can take those-“ Otabek motions for his computer and headphones case. 

Yuri just shakes his head, hugging both items closer. “It’s okay.” He doesn’t move to the door yet, he stays exactly where he is, something sticking to the tip of his tongue.  
“Thanks for coming out here- for visiting... Even though this part sucks. I think _ah_ -” Yuri leans his head down, his cheek grazing the edge of Otabek’s laptop before coming back up. “It’s kind of crazy but- I think I love everything about you.”

Otabek doesn’t want to leave. 

His mouth opens, and under the shadow of his hood, Otabek’s eyes trace over Yuri’s face- his lungs and his heart still stopped by it.  
“You are my everything, Yuri.”

Yuri smiles, darting his eyes away.  
”Mm.”

...  


**=======**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea if anyone is interested (and obviously the track can be anything your mind wants it to be :) ) but the track I had playing when writing Otabek’s music here was—  
> “Drifting Phonetics” by Slow Meadow


	29. Part IV: 10. Departure

**=======**

**St. Petersburg**

...  


Fog.  
A lot of fog.  
The fog outside, rolling in with dawn. The fog inside, draped over the furniture, the floor, them, the bags at their feet. Coating over their ears, muffling the sound. So muffled, Otabek can’t even make out what it is he’s been saying.  
He knows it’s loving. That the words are soft. But he couldn’t quote any of it back.  
He’s been murmuring things in Yuri’s ear, hugging him close as they puppet themselves through the motions neither one of them want.  
All Yuri does is nod. With each murmur, Yuri just nods. Maybe he hears it. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Something in Otabek just tells him to keep going- that he should try to keep Yuri’s thoughts quiet under the sound of his own voice.  
Otabek’s arms band tighter around Yuri’s shoulders. A growing wet spot on his jacket spreading from where Yuri’s face is tucked over. His whole jacket could turn damp and Otabek wouldn’t care in the least.

They’re interrupted by the driver calling to let Otabek know he’s out front. Yuri watches, his face tired and wet, eyelids so heavy they couldn’t keep themselves up if they tried. Otabek keeps his thumb stroking between Yuri’s shoulder blades, letting the driver know he’ll be down soon, eyes blank over the windows. 

Otabek doesn’t want to leave.  
But  
Unfortunately or fortunately, leaving a place he doesn’t want to is something Otabek has had a good deal of experience in. At this point it’s ingrained. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s there. It kept him moving after he’d hug his father goodbye. His mother. His sister.  
Kept him moving even when he knew he was going back to a place where he’d be reminded every day he would never belong. A place where he’d undoubtably fail. Continue failing. Picking himself up only so he could fail again. Because at some point he stopped failing- and when he stopped failing is when it etched itself in.  
Even when Otabek feels the weight pulling down on his feet, so heavy his legs want to buckle, his body threatening a strike- he doesn’t. Somehow, he’s always been able to keep himself moving.

Otabek takes Yuri’s face, the one that mesmerizes him and has been flashing a look so pleading and honest that Yuri has to blink it away, point it somewhere else, as if he’s ashamed for Otabek to see just how much he needs him.  
It hits something in Otabek- a familiar shame from having not been here sooner. He should have been here sooner. Otabek should have known. Should have had the courage to hold Yuri’s gaze and see it instead of being too afraid of the imagined rejection. It’s incomprehensible to him still but if Yuri looks at him like this- like Otabek is the sun and the light and the warmth keeping Yuri’s heart alive- and Otabek hasn’t been there to keep him warm until now...  
The fog weighs in his chest.  
_God_ -  
Otabek leans in and kisses him- keeping Yuri’s face close, wanting to imprint the palm of his hand into Yuri’s cheek.  
He kisses Yuri’s forehead. “You should go back to bed.” Kisses Yuri’s temple. “I love you.” Kisses Yuri ear. “ _Please_ -” Kisses Yuri’s cheek, “- write back.”

Yuri nods and kisses Otabek’s palm, the corner of his mouth managing to quirk up. Otabek smiles.  
He bends down giving the cats a last scratch, “It won’t be long. It’ll go by fast.” He says it to Baba Yaga but means it for all of them, himself included. 

All the fog makes it hard to track, but at some point Otabek feels the practiced part inside take over, and after holding Yuri tight one more time- eyes squeezed shut with a silent vow and swell of gratitude, Otabek keeps himself moving,  
Collects his bags,

And leaves.

...  


Alone.  
It’s quiet. So quiet it rings. 

Yuri has this thing...  
Where it comes from is obvious but it doesn’t make it any easier knowing that. He has this thing where-  
he really fucking hates the part where the door closes.  
It does something to his head. Like it all turns a deep shade of blue, then purple, then black. Pitch black. Closes in on him till he’s locked inside. Just the ringing in his ears and the sound of his pulse.  
It’s bullshit.  
That it can still do that. Even though he’s older. Not some air headed kid who can’t even spell. Even though it’s just a door. Even though everything in him knows it doesn’t mean what his head remembers it meaning back when he could barely remember anything let alone a logical fucking thought. Doesn’t stop the pounding in his skull- or the emptiness. All the light leaving him.  
This part should just fuck off forever. 

The knife in his head jerks, threatening to do worse by suggesting that Yuri imagine the doorknob twisting, opening again. Imagine the relief that would fill him at seeing Otabek’s fac-

_No_

Today was already going to suck. He didn’t need the disappointment of some self-hating fantasy making it all worse. 

He lets out the breath he’s been holding, glowering at the closed door in front of him.  
Baba Yaga makes a small chirp, sitting herself under it, her head tilted up. Like that’s all that was required in bringing Otabek back. 

Yuri sniffs, “Don’t be so fucking cliche, Baba.”  
Out the corner of his eye he catches his phone lighting up on the nightstand.  
_‘Please, write back.’_  
Yuri drags himself over, head numb, body numb, eyes swollen and blank. 

| I hope you’re back in bed asleep  
| I wish I was in bed with you  
| I only want to be in bed with you

Even though he’s tired and even though Otabek told him to, Yuri’s not sure he can get back into the bed yet. It’d be nice if he could put the whole thing in a glass case. Keep it just the way it is. Somehow trap the smells and the warmth for Yuri to always be able to drift off to sleep with. 

> not yet  
> i will

It’s fucking quiet. 

He goes to the bathroom to wash his face. Drenching cool water over his tired skin, leaning against the counter and rubbing at his eyes.  
Maybe he should shower.  
Brush his teeth.  
No way in hell he can train today. But maybe it would help to do something norm-  
He stops. Eyes locked next to the faucet. 

Otabek’s toothbrush stands next to his. He must have forgotten it.  
_Mm_. It’s kind of nice.  
Proves it wasn’t all a dream.

Yuri runs a hand over his hair and glances up at the mirror-  
it’s not good.  
He looks like an emergency room surgeon who recently ended a 72 hour shift. Except instead of saving lives or doing something that mattered he’s just some sad asshole whose boyfriend left to go back home. Everything is just all tired and swollen and frowning. The only color is in his cheeks from having spotted Otabek’s toothbrush next to his. 

_Actually_ \- 

Yuri turns to the bedroom, eyeing the dresser. He goes to it, brow wrinkled, tugging open the drawer Otabek was using-

 _Not_ empty.  
A few shirts, a pair of loose pants, socks and underwear are folded inside. Otabek left his toothbrush. Left some clothes.  
Yuri swallows over the crack in his throat.  
_Fuck_.  
That’s nice. Hurts. But it’s nice.  
At least Yuri has some new clothes he can wear whenever he’s in one of those useless sad moods. It’s an upgrade at least. Now he has outfit choices. 

_Maybe even_ -  
Yuri’s feet take over, walking him across the apartment and down the stairs, taking him to the study area...

 _Huh_.  
It’s all packed up but Otabek hardly took any of it back with him. Equipment is propped up, neatly stored and wrapped up along the bookshelves. _Oh_ -  
Yuri ticks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, going over to pick up the black track jacket draped over the chair.  
“Asshole.”

 _Fucking cocky move, Altin._  
Leaving a Nike track jacket. Knowing Yuri wouldn’t have a choice.  
Yuri puts it on, zipping it up and plopping down in the chair Otabek spent so many hours in- making use of a room Yuri hardly ever used. Like this area of the apartment was always meant for Otabek to nest in. 

Yuri pulls his knees up on the chair and wraps his arms across his chest, hugging in the scent of Otabek’s jacket and wanting to sink himself into the space.  
The tears come back.  
And it’s fine.  
He lets them go. Staring out the window. Remembering how nice it was when it wasn’t so quiet. To have someone to cook for. Talk to. To listen to all of his own dumbass ramblings.  
Who kissed him.  
Made him feel-  
warm.  
And now he can remember all of that while spending another year being a sad sack of shit. But like- The upgraded version. 

His phone lights up on the desk signaling a call.  
Yuri sniffs and wipes at his eyes, reaching forward and answering- putting it on speaker. 

“Hey.” Yuri says sadly, perching his chin on his knees, face blank over the call timer. “You about to board?”  
No answer. But Yuri can tell he’s there. His breath catches. “Otabek?”

“I don’t want to go.”

Yuri’s brows knit over the screen. “ _You_ -“

“I don’t want to go. I don’t, _I_ -“  
_No_ -  
Otabek’s voice has never sounded like this. It cracks. Cracks differently than it ever has- something shatters behind Yuri’s eyes.  
It’s the first time-  
_Oh_  
It matches.  
They match. The way it feels... they’re the same. This isn’t Otabek hurting but still able to comfort Yuri. It’s not empathy or care. It’s ugly raw pointed pain. And it cuts deep, echoing back and vibrating between Yuri’s ears.  
_No_.  
Yuri can hear him crying.  
If the reason for Otabek crying was something Yuri could physically hold he would smash it and kill it with his own bare fucking hands.  
Otabek’s breath gets choked on a thought,  
“I’ve had to leave my whole damn life, I don’t want to anymore- I love you, Yuri. We spent too much time apart- I don’t know what I’m going back to. If you’re not there- I don’t know what the point of it is. I could stay-“ Otabek’s tone changes, like he’s already made up his mind, “I could call for a car- I can come back- I don’t have to-“

“Otabek.“ Yuri stops him. His eyelids fall closed, “Breathe.”  
He takes a slow inhale. The sky outside gray, still waking up but growing brighter and pushing against his closed lids.  
Fresh tears trace over the dried streaks across Yuri’s cheeks, “You should breathe with me.”  
It goes quiet. But Yuri hears him. Pulling in the air. Silence when Otabek holds it. And then letting it out. The end of it shaking but gradually steadying.  
Yuri could never have imagined it. He doesn’t know where it lives or where it’s been all these years-  
But hearing the pain and the conviction in Otabek’s voice... Yuri sees everything- all of it- every piece he could bend- every part he could sway-

Maybe it’s always been that way...

He sees Otabek coming back. Opening the door. Both of them colliding into each other. Bodies tangled in seconds. The decision made. Otabek staying, forever.  
It wouldn’t take much. For the first time Yuri knows the person he loves most would come back to him if he asked it. It _really_ wouldn’t take much-  
The tears grow in size. He nestles into the track jacket, squeezing every ounce of strength he can from it.  
“I want you here.” Yuri feels a dull tension in his forehead, “But...-” _fuck_ , “...you have to go home first.”

Quiet. 

Yuri wipes his nose on his knee staring at his phone, “I know you’re sick of leaving- I don’t blame you, you should be sick of fucking leaving. _But_ \- you were leaving there first. That’s your home, Otabek. You did everything to get your rink there so you wouldn’t have to leave it like you had to before. You can’t just- You haven’t said goodbye. You need time so you can say goodbye. So _they_ can say goodbye.” Yuri looks out into the gray sky. “And then after that, you’ll be here. Forever. _And_ -“ He hugs his knees in tighter, “It’ll be perfect. Really. It’s gonna be _so fucking perfect_. But you can’t be here until you go home first. You _uhm_ -“ a tight pull in his chest, he shakes his head, hating it, “You can’t just leave- you can’t just leave them.“ Yuri knows.  
He hates it when the door closes. 

He hears the sound of Otabek sniffing, the air leaving him exhausted, “Mm.”

Yuri softens his eyes over the phone, his chest heavy and needing relief.  
“So _uh_ \- you like at the gate now or-?”

Otabek lets out a surprised laugh, “Yes. Sobbing in the middle of the boarding gate. Nothing to see here.“  
Yuri smiles, biting behind his lip.  
“No. _I’m_ \- I’ve locked myself in the lounge bathroom.”

“Mm. Yeah.” Yuri tilts his head to the side, “I know that bathroom. It’s got TVs in the mirrors.”

“It does. I’m quite sure they’ve already mentioned you twice since I’ve been in here. Along with the various posters and ads of you I walked by. If you didn’t know, Yuri, you’re quite a big deal here. Certainly doesn’t help having to leave you-”

Yuri smiles into his knees, face growing warm, “I had them put those up.”

Otabek laughs again and Yuri surrenders happily to it, feels himself drift over it. “Did you?”

“Yeah. In case you forgot how cool I look doing stuff.”

Otabek clears his throat. “I see. _Stuff_ as in, staring directly into a camera over a bottle of cologne?”

“Fuck yeah,” he wants to take the sound of Otabek laughing and disperse it into tiny gel caps that he could take throughout the day. “I look fucking cool, right?”

Otabek sighs, “Always.” He makes a small sniff. _Fucking cute_. Yuri wishes he could kiss him. Devour his whole fucking face- “Are you in bed?” Otabek asks it hopefully.

Yuri frowns, hugging himself in more, “No. _I’m_ -“ he guiltily looks down at himself, “I’m sitting at the desk and wearing your jacket.”

“ _Yuri_.” Otabek makes a pained sound. 

“You left so much stuff here.” Yuri looks around the room, eyes running over the random pieces of equipment. “You don’t need any of these? I could mail them to you-”

“No. Less for me to carry. I have similar versions at home. You’re welcome to use them if you’d like-”

Yuri smiles, “Yeah?”

“Please.”

“Mm. You left clothes too.”

“Less to carry. Also thought it was only fair.”

Yuri arches a brow, “Fair?”

“Mm. You might be missing some.”

Yuri laughs, “Okay. Well. If I’m stuck secretly wearing this fucking jacket that could get my brand sponsorship cancelled, you better also have taken some-“  
His phone vibrates on the desk telling him Otabek just sent a message. Yuri picks his head up and taps to open it.  
A photo with half of Otabek’s jacket pulled down, revealing himself to be wearing a shirt with a small Adidas logo on the sleeve. Yuri’s cheeks burn red.  
“Ballsy shit, Otabek. I could blackmail you with this.”

“My face isn’t in it.”

Yuri laughs. “Right. Smart.”

They go quiet, the inevitable approaching fast. 

“Thank you, Yuri.”

Tears form again. “Yeah. Thanks for _uh_ \- not wanting to go- telling me.”

“Yuri?”

“Mm?” Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, hands gripped in his hair. 

“I’ll still come back- if you asked it. If you want me to. It could be when I land, tomorrow, mid-season, really- any time. You can ask it. And _I’ll_ \- I don’t care about any of it. I’ll sort it out. _Please_ \- know that. That I’ll come back. The minute you ask.” 

“I know.”  
He does. It’s strange, but he does.  
He also recognizes that tinge of fear in Otabek’s voice-  
“Otabek,” Yuri inwardly sighs at himself, forever fucking exhausted by his own past actions, “I’m not leaving.”

“Mm.”

“I’m not.” Yuri shakes his head at the call screen, “It’s okay. You can go home. We’ll be here. Baba Yaga hasn’t left the front door. I’m sitting in your chair wearing your track jacket and crying. Really. We’re not going anywhere.” He bites behind his lip, “ _So_ \- go home. You know, be with everyone. And then after that you’ll be here with us. _Well_ -” he rolls his eyes at himself, “I don’t know, that’s probably stupid- cats don’t count. Then you can be here, I mean... with me.”  
Yuri doesn’t know what it’s like to leave a place full of family and friends that would be sad if he moved away- and he doesn’t understand why Otabek would want to leave all of it just to move in with him and two dumb cats. But.  
Otabek did just have a breakdown in the airport bathroom asking for exactly that so...  
Yuri must look pretty fucking good in a suit. 

“I don’t want to go.” Otabek reminds him. 

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll message from the plane.”

“Mm hm.”

Otabek lets out a long sigh.

Yuri huffs out a breath and a tired smile, “Otabek. Go.”

“Mm. Bye, Yuri.”

“Bye.”

The call ends. Yuri presses his face into his knees- already regretting everything he just said. Otabek could have been on his way back- kissing him, naked in bed... 

Sucks.  
Knowing shit sucks.  
Being responsible sucks. 

Getting up, he trudges over to the training space across the bottom floor. It’s pathetic but he goes to Otabek’s yoga mat, unrolls it, then lays himself down, legs curled under him, cheek pressed into the cushioned foam. 

At some point Potya finds him and nestles into his chest. Baba Yaga doesn’t join. She must still be upstairs by the door. Waiting. Otabek continues texting him. Both of them sad and trying to make each other laugh.  
Yuri just curls more into himself. His breath starts to slow. His vision narrowing more and more.  
And after letting Otabek know, he drops the phone to the floor and lets himself sleep.  
Arms hugging across his chest, face dipped into the collar of Otabek’s jacket.  
Apartment empty and silent around him. The way it always was before.  
Quiet. And cold.

...  


...  


The buzz of his phone wakes him up. Where and why he is where he is coming back to him like a cold wet towel left on his skin.  
Groaning, Yuri squints an eye open.  
“Fuck.” Limply, he taps the answer button, “What?” He grunts out. 

“If I buzz in 10 minutes will you let me in?”

He glares, “ _What_?”

“Yes or no? I know he left today. Yuuri and Victor texted asking if I’d stop by, I told them you’d hate it and that you’re probably sad as shit on the floor or something but- _I_ \- I need your help.” Mila says it like it’s a bitter taste in her mouth. 

Yuri frowns, “I’m not on the floor.” He rolls over onto his back, eyes staring up into the ceiling from the floor. 

“Okay.”

“I’m not!”

“Well. You sound like you just woke up from falling asleep on the floor.”

 _God dammit_.  
Fucking Mila.  
“I didn’t.” He’s on a yoga mat. It’s different. 

“I believe you. So if I stop by are you going to get up off the floor and let me in?”

Yuri opens his mouth but stops, remembering Baba Yaga chirping sadly at the door, not understanding why her chair would just leave like that.

“ _Ff_ \- Whatever.”

“Thanks. We can lay on the floor together. On opposite ends of the apartment-”

“Fuck off! I’m not on the floor!-“

“See you in 10.”

...  


“I don’t have keys for you-“

“I’m not here for keys-“ Mila storms in, swinging a plastic bag up and onto the kitchen island.  
She bends down to pick up an eager Baba Yaga and flops her over her shoulder like a baby that needs to be burped. Scratching her ears while continuing to rush her way towards the living room. 

“The fuck? What’s that?” Yuri calls out pointing at the plastic bag. 

“Food. You never eat when you’re like this.”

Yuri walks after her, “Like _what_?!”

Mila looks over her shoulder before descending the stairs, eyes stopping over the Nike logo on the track jacket that’s obviously not his.  
“Sad.”  
She heads down. Baba Yaga bouncing lightly on every step, her face relaxed for the first time all day as she purrs contently into Mila’s ear. 

Yuri rolls his eyes, going down after her, “‘ _Oh hi, I’m Mila, I’m a literal nightmare who likes to come over to peoples houses uninvited and tell them they look and feel like shit_ ’,” he rounds the staircase, pointing a finger at her, “That’s like the best fucking impression of you anyone has ever done, like a fucking mirror-” 

Ignoring him, she lifts Baba Yaga to her face and nuzzles her nose before setting her on the ground and throwing her jacket off. “I need to you to do that thing where you watch something and then figure out how to do it.”

Yuri drops his mouth, “What?”

Mila bites behind her lip and pulls out her phone, frantically searching for whatever it is she needs. For the first time Yuri makes out the tiredness under her eyes. “It’s my little nephew’s dance team, I help choreograph their routines every week. They wanted something that looked like this one artist they’re all nuts about but _I can’t_ -“ she clenches her jaw, scanning more frantically on her phone, “I can’t figure out this one step and I have to have this put together by tomorrow. I wanted this done last week but with school and... _everything else_...” she taps aggressively at something on her phone screen. 

Yuri crosses his arms. Unmoved. “‘ _Everything else_ ’?”

Mila grips so hard into her phone her knuckles go white. “It’s fine. _There’s_ \- it’s just busy right now.”

“With what?”

She pauses on the phone screen, looking up to consider him, “Fine. Okay. I’ve got one friend whose getting married so I’m having to plan all this shit for- I’ve got another friend who just got out of a break up whose been crashing at mine and making it so every night for the last two weeks I’m getting woken up by the sound of them crying or yelling on the phone. Then my sister just had another baby for fuck knows what reason, so I have to go over there all the time to help and well- you’ve met my family- they’re _them_ -“ she presses a hand into her forehead, “And with classes- _Just_ \- I need help with this- and I know it’ll be easy for you. It’s you. It’ll take you like 5 seconds.”

Yuri frowns deeper. “Didn’t you retire early so you wouldn’t get into this exact same fucking scenario? Getting burnt out?-“

She looks up at him, face starting to challenge but then immediately falling. “I know.” Blinking down at her phone, Mila tenses her mouth then holds it out to him, “Please.”

He eyes her phone skeptically. Arms still crossed. 

“Out of all those things I just listed, besides school, this one is my favorite. He’s a sweet kid. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Please, I need your help. You get to see me fuck up a dance move, that has to be worth something.”

Yuri takes the phone from her. “Alright, what is this?” 

“Just watch. It’s not too far in.”

Yuri relaxes his jaw and taps play, “ _Jesus_ -,” he blinks at the screen, “Mila, this music sucks.”

“They’re teenagers, of course it sucks.”

His forehead wrinkles while he watches some new pop idol jump in and out of flashy choreography against a futuristic backdrop. Mila’s listening to it, walking backwards to the center of the room. The minute the next dance break starts Mila mirrors it. Easily copying the moves like they’re nothing, bored and tiredly mouthing the words. Then she stutters- “That!” Her foot slams down. “What is he doing there! I keep fucking it up.“

Yuri rubs a hand over the back of his neck, “Yeah. That’s not it. Your weights in the wrong leg. Hold on.” He rewinds the video to watch again.

“My weight is in the wrong leg?”

“Mm.” Yuri nods. It’s a slick move. The kind that straddles the line between being a smooth party trick and a legit show of skill. He keeps the video on, going to stand next to her, placing the phone down on a piece of exercise equipment, eyes locked on the screen. Yuri unzips his jacket, his lower half already tensing, mapping the movements.  
Darting his eyes up he watches himself in the window reflection while working through it, not following a count yet but working through the steps before- in it- and after. He tweaks his weight distribution a couple times- and finds it.  
“Yeah. Alright.”  
He plays the part in the music video again. No longer needing to look at it as he mimics the moves- including the part Mila hasn’t been able to land-

She sinks down to her knees. Her face half exhausted and half overjoyed in relief. “You’re a saint, Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Sure. Come on, I’ll walk you through it. It’s not hard. The optics are just confusing.”

She gets up, eyes locked on his bottom half for each step. Mila’s been dancing her whole life, it isn’t hard giving her direction. He only has to shake his head a couple times to point out where her instincts are getting muddled. He goes down to the floor to tap the correct foot she needs to push off with-

“Oh!”

He looks up, “Yeah. That’s it. Go.”

Mila moves through it, eyes wide on her reflection. She stops, covering her face with a groan, “ _Fuck_. Thank you. I mean it.”

Yuri shrugs, “Yeah. Whatever. Do it again.”  
He rewinds the video leading into the move and they go through the steps side by side, perfectly in sync. It’s a flashback to when they were younger. Mila used to drag him into random dance routines with her. Usually off popular music videos he hated. Others would try to join but no one else could ever keep up with them. Yuri didn’t exactly enjoy it but he also didn’t hate it. It was just- something to pass the time.  
Like a mindless video game that didn’t mean anything. 

Mila breathes out on the end, face flushed, several degrees less stressed than she was. “Well. Thanks for making me look cool to bunch of teenagers tomorrow. They’d lose their minds if they knew it was you who helped.”

Yuri looks at her unenthused, “The last thing I need are more mouth breathing teenagers looming over my shoulder.”

Mila grins, “Such a magical way with the youth-“

“Fuck off.”

“Thank you though. Really.” Mila holds his gaze like she’s willfully waving a white flag, “Look, I know you’re down today but- you _should_ eat, Yuri. I went to that place down the street and got you kotlety. It’s not bad.”

Yuri considers her, shaking his head then pinches her phone between two fingers and drops it into her hands, “You mom too many people, Mila. Everyone expects you to take care of them- It’s bullshit. And you just put up with it- If all these people are gonna reap you doing all this shit and busting your ass for them all the time- you should at least be getting fucking paid. It drives me fucking crazy. I don’t want it and I don’t need you doing it here.“ He goes back over to the stairs and stops when he realizes Mila hasn’t moved an inch or made a usual biting reply. 

She’s staring at him. Face in shock. Yuri focuses in, his throat clenching as he begs there not to be-  
_Fuck_. 

“Mila. _Shit_.” He grips the railing, looking away and biting his tongue. “I’m sorry, that’s not- I didn’t mean-“

“Yeah you did.” A tear falls out. 

He closes his eyes, self hatred settling in and making itself at home. “ _I_ -“

“You’re not wrong.”

Yuri shamefully looks down at the floor. Shaking his head, directing it at himself.  
_Why?_ Whhhhyyy does he do that. Why do that? Why say that? What’s the fucking point... she didn’t fucking do anything. She brought food. That’s it. There’s a clear asshole here and it’s not Mila. 

“It’s harsh. But you’re not wrong.” She wipes her face and picks up her jacket, folding it in her arms, brow furrowed staring down. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”

Yuri looks up. 

“ _I’ll_ \- try not to mom everything. Like you said. And you try being a better friend. Or, a friend at all. I know you said you were gonna try when you came over the other day. But _actually_ try. And if we can’t do it- fine. I’ll go back to being your cat sitter and you can go back to having zero close relationships that aren’t the guy you’re in love with and we can continue being the two self destructive messes that maybe we’re just supposed to be for the rest of our lives. But we could try this first. Figure it out together. Fuck it up together.” She shrugs, looking away, “No one else calls me on it- especially if I’m, you know... mom-ing them. And I can’t keep going at the rate I am- I’m already running on empty by afternoon. I think you’d help. Not yet obviously, you’re still too massive a prick but-“ they share a faint smirk, “I could see it helping. Me, at least. Maybe it’d help you too.”

Yuri’s never considered... He doesn’t know how to- _any_ of this.

Mila shifts, wrapping her arms closer around herself. “I know your standard of person is Otabek fucking Altin but-“

“ _Shhh_ \- stop.” Yuri leans back against the wall. Baba Yaga flops over Mila’s feet, her small head tilted lovingly up at her.  
“I’m not good at this, Mila.”

“I know. That’s why you don’t have any friends except me.”

“Why do all this? You know I’m a prick. You know I’m gonna say mean shit again- you shouldn’t have to put up with it- you have like- _a trillion_ fucking people in your life-“

“And yet you’re the only one who just told me to stop getting bulldozed and stand up for myself. I don’t know, Yuri- you might be inept but with that ineptness seems to come this harsh fucking truth and for some reason that works for me. I hated it when you went silent. Felt like I lost my gps or something.” Mila looks away and bites into her lip, “ _Did_ -“ she rolls her eyes, “Were you afraid I’d be upset that you liked him or- something?”

Yuri furrows his brow, opening his mouth and then closing it.  
_Shit_. 

“No. _I_ -“ Yuri wipes a hand over his face and looks blankly at the ground. “I knew there was no way you wouldn’t figure it out, and I didn’t- I couldn’t talk about it. I _couldn’t_. And I knew you’d make me. I knew you’d crowd me and bring me food and whatever. I couldn’t handle it.”

Mila’s eyes glaze and she gives a short nod. “I see.”

“It was stupid- on my part. Pretty sure if you knew there’s no way it would have taken him and me 4 fucking years to confess. You would have had us figure that shit out like day fucking one-”

Mila laughs, “True. God. _4 years_? And he didn’t say _anything_?”

Yuri pulls his hands out his pockets and throws them up exasperated. “EXACTLY!”

Mila rolls her eyes, “That’s the most Otabek Altin thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I KN- wait, why?”

She huffs a laugh, “Because it’s him! He might be mister rebellion in the rink but the minute he leaves it’s like meeting someone straight out of a time machine. And I could see it, you know- with your age and everything. He was probably waiting for you-”

Yuri nods, “He was.”

She sighs, “God. Really, Yuri- I know you’re like an elf from the fellowship or whatever but Otabek is- he’s really _so_ hot.”

He huffs a laugh, “Mm.” Yuri looks down, his face warming. 

“I have a wedding I have to go to next week, you wanna go with me?” 

Yuri blinks up, “Fuck no.”

Mila laughs. “Eh, worth a shot.”

Yuri leans back against the wall, “I have to go to London next week. You wanna tag along?”

She shakes her head, face unimpressed by the offer, “Can’t. I’ve got school.”

Yuri nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets.  
“You wanna get drunk and yell at the TV?”

Mila bends down, picking up Baba Yaga again and cradling her in her arms. She sighs. “Yeah. That works.”

Yuri’s phone goes off. “Shit-“  
His heart skips over the screen. Mila sees it and grins into Baba Yaga’s head.  
“I gotta _uh_ -“

She walks past him “Yup.” Baba Yaga bouncing blankly in her arms as they climb the stairs.

“Take whatever from the freezer-“ Yuri yells it after her and backs away from the staircase, taking the call and pressing the phone to his ear, “Hey-“

“Hey!”  
Otabek sounds significantly better than he did earlier. Yuri feels a tension in his chest he’s been holding since he last heard him finally give way.  
“I hope I didn’t wake you-“

“ _No_ \- no. _I_ -“ Yuri shuts the door to the bathroom and slides down to the floor, a wave of familiar longing that he’d been temporarily distracted from washing back over him, “Mila’s over.”

“Really?” Otabek sounds pleasantly stunned. 

“Yeah.”

“ _That’s_ -“ Otabek struggles to find the words, “God- that’s- surprising. I didn’t know you two still spent time together-“

“Well. We didn’t. Until like an hour ago.”  
Yuri can hear Otabek smiling into the phone. “Can I turn the video on? I want to see you.”

“Mm.”

Yuri holds his phone out, resting his arm on his knee and turning on the camera. Otabek’s face appears also with the backdrop of a bathroom wall behind him.  
Only Otabek can still look this fuckable under bathroom lighting and a pixelated screen.  
“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Yuri tilts his head to the side. “You got home okay?”

“It was alright. I didn’t have to walk into an empty apartment, thankfully- my sister was over. Seems like we’re both being checked in on.”

Yuri bites behind his lip, trying to fathom the idea of Otabek having only been here this morning- and now he was in another fucking country. “I miss you.”

Otabek sighs, “God, Yuri- I miss you.” Yuri watches him run a hand through his hair and settle it over his mouth. “Thank you. For earlier.”

Yuri looks down, “Mm.” 

“I’m fortunate- to have had that from you. Thank you.”

Yuri nods. 

“I’d still rather I was with you.”

Yuri leans his head back against the door. “Yeah. It’s better when you’re here.”

“Will you _uhm_ \- tell Mila I said ‘Hi’ and that I’m happy to hear she’s there?”

Yuri frowns, “I guess. She still has a crush on you.”

Otabek smiles wide, bowing his head down embarrassed. 

“Serious. She has your photo on her fridge.”

Otabek squints and cocks his head to the side, ”Does she?”

”Yeah. She says you’re there cause you’re hot- she’s always thought you were hot.”

“You know, I always felt bad about that. Especially with how jealous I’d get of her-“

“Of Mila?!”

“Mm. Whenever everyone went out after competitions, the two of you always looked like you were having more fun than the rest.“

“Oh,“ Yuri thinks back, “We were just drunk and probably making fun of people. Also, I don’t think I knew how alcohol worked yet.”

“Well. Then at the time I wished I could have been as good at making fun of people as she was.“

Yuri smiles, his cheeks turning red. “ _That’s_... stupid.”

“Mm.” Otabek sweeps over Yuri’s face on his screen. “How am I going to sleep without you tonight, Yuri?”

“I don’t know.” Yuri frowns, “We should have weened each other off instead sleeping naked every fucking night. I miss coming with you-”

Otabek’s mouth parts, and he glances at the door, “ _I_ \- yes.” He swallows. 

“Will you send me a photo of your dick later?” 

Otabek blinks and gives a short nod, words failing him. _Fucking cute_. “If you want that- yes-“

“I always want that...” Yuri smirks, watching him shift. “It’s better when you’re here, Otabek. Your hand is better. Your mouth. Your ass-“

“Yuri-“

“Can we later?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” He’s so fucking beautiful. Yuri feels his dick pulse, imagining Otabek reaching down for him, wrapping him in his grip, their mouths covering- “This is going to be the longest fucking year of my life-“

“It won’t.” Otabek says it hopefully, shaking his head, “You’ll be busy with the upcoming season soon, planning your programs- strategizing my defeat-“

Yuri’s stomach does a hard drop.

He bites into his tongue.  
_Right_.  
The thing he’s supposed to do. Supposed to know how to do.  
His heart starts to race- his intestine tightening in on itself. 

He almost forgot 

Yuri almost forgot that he forgot how to do the only thing he’s ever known how to do. The only piece of him he’s ever been able to count on. The only thing he’s ever been good for.  
_Gone_.  
Still completely fucking gone.  
And no one has a fucking clue. 

He blinks and gives a curt nod keeping his gaze down. “Yeah- Guess you’re right.”  
_He’s not_.

“Someone on the flight recognized me and asked what I was doing in St. Petersburg.” Otabek smiles at him, a playful glint in his eye. 

Yuri blinks himself out his own mental black hole, “Mm. Yeah?” 

”Yes. I told them I had visited because I needed to have sex with you-“

Yuri bursts out laughing, “You’re so terrible at this, Otabek-“

Otabek puts up a finger, “But I didn’t say _anything_ about being in love with you or that I’d be moving in.”

” _Wow_. That’s real restraint.” Yuri smiles wide, shaking his head, “What did you tell them?”

Otabek shrugs, “Business.”

Yuri can picture it easily, Otabek keeping an even tone with a neutral face as someone excitedly asks him what he’d been in St. Petersburg for- _‘Business.’_. He’d say it with a small smile, not leaving any opening for further interrogation.  
“Smooth. The day I’m spotted in Almaty I’m telling everyone I’m there to collect fresh samples of your semen- for research.”

”What’s the research?”

Yuri gives a half grin, watching Otabek preemptively laugh, “Whether it feels good...“ 

Otabek shakes his head, “Don’t-“ 

”-when it shoots into my ass.”

”Alright.”

He’ll figure it out. Yuri vows it for himself, his heart duplicating and pressing up into his throat. He’ll stay all night at the rink, every night until it comes back. He’ll find it. He’ll get it back. For Otabek’s last competitive year, Yuri will bring back the piece of himself he lost. He has to. Because if he can’t it would mean-

”I miss this part-” Otabek’s hand looks like it’s reaching for the screen in front of him. Yuri’s eyes question him. “This-“ Otabek smiles warmly, pointing to his own temple. “I like kissing you there- it always looks like it’s working so hard under there- I like soothing it.”

Because if Yuri can’t find it again, it would mean he can never have both.  
That who he is on the ice and the greatness he’s built from it cannot coexist with Otabek.  
And he’ll never give up Otabek.

...  


**=======**


	30. Part V: 1.

**=======**

**St. Petersburg**

...  


_‘That look on your face, is it ungratefulness or something else?’_

__

__

_‘He’s definitely gonna lose his shit later-‘_

_‘Not so stern, Yuri.‘_

_‘Stop frowning. It’s a question not a death sentence.‘_

_‘We need to work on your tone-‘_

_‘Shoulders back-‘_

_‘You give that look in the camera people will be booing not cheering-“_

_‘No one wants to see someone fidget all the time-‘_

_‘Head up-‘_

_‘Now smile but do it like you’re happy not devious-‘_

_‘I dont trust him’_

_‘Why does Yuri Plisetsky look so mean?‘_

_‘only obsessed with winning’_

__

__

‘ _Perfect and lifeless as ever-_ ‘

_‘nikiforav knows he doesn’t have to train plisetsky right?'_

__

__

_‘Look at the face that’s speaking to you-‘  
‘something tragic must have happened to turn out like that-‘  
‘Too much arrogance-‘ ‘just don’t make eye contact with him-‘ ‘We all agree we like looking at him but no one is looking to invite Yuri Plisetsky out for some pizza, am I right?’ ‘Beautiful but-‘ ’So much rage in you-‘ ’This is not some schoolyard activity, Yuri-‘’You choose to represent yourself this way?’ ’always so angry’ ’Your choices will be seen as selfish’ ’I’ll admit I’m worried for Altin at tonight’s competition’ ‘My friend warned me you were only gonna break my heart-‘ ‘Must’ve been a fucked up upbringing-‘ ‘Does he like anything?’ ‘You think Victor Nikiforav would have ever made a face like that?’ ‘He probably thinks he’s better than everyone’ ‘Yuri Plisetsky looking like he’s out for blood at last night’s competition-‘ ‘Can we really call it talent if he’s got three gold medalist coaches?’ ‘I heard his life was really sad…’ ‘A true rags to riches story-‘ ‘Do you think he has any friends?’ ‘I heard he never hangs out with other skaters because they aren’t famous enough for him’ ’Cold’ ‘It’d be nice to see someone else win gold for once’ ‘He’s a walking mannequin, of course the judges overscore him’ ‘Your family must be so proud-‘ ‘Considering the coaches behind him, I’m not sure we’re seeing him live up to the potential we thought he’d bring.’ ‘I only ever feel scared of him or bad for him.’ ’It would be good if you’d try to be relatable for once-’ ‘never looks happy.’ _

__

__

_‘...Does he even want to be here?’_

_‘Yuri-‘_

“Yuri-“

“ **Yuri!** ”

Yuri blinks, darting his eyes over to his manager.  
“Sure.” He answers indifferently then turns back to the window.

“ _Ah_ \- Good.” his manager goes to cheerfully type something out on the laptop in front of him, each key being pressed with a pleased click, “They'll be overjoyed to hear that. I'll ring them over lunch.” 

Victor pivots, leaning on the armrest of the adjacent burgundy leather chair matching Yuri’s, “That’ll be two trips back to back, Yura. Are you certain?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”  
No different than any other year. He’s done it before- can do it in his sleep. Special event appearances are half easy and half existentially meaningless. These days Victor leads most of it anyway. And even though Yuri hates every second he hates idleness more. Especially during a time when he’s counting down the seconds of a year.  
So, _sure_. Yeah. He’ll go. Are there more? He’ll go to those too. 

“Will there be a rink available?” Yuuri pipes up from behind them, perched on the also-matching burgundy leather couch next to Yuri’s assistant. 

The speakerphone on the desk answers, “Full accommodations including their local rink to be used at your disposal. They’ve always been gracious hosts for Yuri’s visits. This will be no exception.”

Yuri watches a plane in the distance skim across the blue sky.  
Sometimes it feels like he has a bunch of little people sitting inside him too. All twitchy and uncomfortable. Anxious for whatever he’s doing to be over. Nothing but the same air recirculating. Speeding past everything but it never feeling that way. Every second _dragging_ -

“Iosif, before you talk about that renewal, there’s a matter we need to discuss-“ the speakerphone announces self-importantly into the oversized penthouse office.  
“Otabek Altin.”

Yuri’s gaze doesn’t part from the window but his eyebrow arches all on it’s own. A pre-irritated ripple courses through the blood rushing up his neck. 

“Rumor has it, this will be Altin’s last year. No confirmation yet but sources are confident, saying the announcement will come following his first assignment.”  
A quiet murmur of shock trickles through the room. Victor even manages to false a subtle look of surprise. 

The leather chair creaks as Yuri sits back, his eyes piercing into the speakerphone. “And… What of it?”

“Well… There’s been worry-“

Yuri’s manager hurriedly circumvents the bluntness of the voice coming out of the speakerphone, replacing it with his own brand of ‘reasonableness’, “Following Oslo and Worlds, attention on Altin has grown tremendously. And it’s been… favorable. _Very favorable_.” Yuri narrows his eyes on his manager, his tongue pressed against the back of his lower teeth. He really hates knowing when idiocy is about to be presented to him— Their gazes hold, “There’s been some _minor_ concern, that if this _is_ to be Altin’s last, it will cause a... not necessarily a _negative_ opinion of you for the season, but perhaps a less-“

“It _would_ be negative.” The speakerphone stops him, “Talk is already negative. I’ve been in meetings all week, every single one voicing concern regarding the upcoming season garnering poor public opinion, _especially_ should Yuri win-“

“ _Oooh_. I see. _Okay. Yes_.” Yuri interrupts him with a tone _dripping_ with blood, the tension in the air climbing fast, “How _worrisome_ this is. What a real _apocalyptic catastrophe_.“ A growing thunder pounds between his ribs. “You’ve lost me, Kostya. What _exactly_ is the concern, here? Last I checked, men’s figure skating is still a sports event using the same bullshit scoring system that’s always been there. Or did I miss the official announcement rebranding it as a global talent show decided by idiots?”  
Yuri feels Victor’s eyes quietly sweeping over him like he’s performing a temperature check. 

“The _concern_ is the assured backlash you’d receive winning over the crowd-favorite’s last competitive year. More specifically, the _concern_ is the negative impact this would have on your branding should that negative depiction carry over-”

“ _Who cares_ if he wins? If he’s winning and he’s a favorite then there’s not much to be done is there? If I’m winning and I’m hated for it so be it. It’s a _sport_.” Yuri shakes his head, “Seriously, Kostya- how is _any_ of this news for _anyone_?-”

“How’s Nikolai’s health been, Yuri?”

Yuri’s eyes snap so hard and so violently back over his manager’s face they nearly crack inside their sockets. His voice drops to a threat, “Ask me that again…“ 

“Now-“ His manager puts up a bracing hand, “We were only thinking it could be helpful. Having Nikolai attend more competitions would be an opportunity to remind everyone that you _too_ have a story. It could bring a sense of humanness back to counteract the negative narrative-“

Yuri stares at him with silent murderous rage. He wants to pick up the freshly wiped glass desk and throw it into the bookshelf full of books that Yuri would bet his cats’ lives on have never _actually_ been opened. 

“It doesn’t have to be Nikolai,” the baritone voice coming from the speaker adds for no god damned reason, “Really, _any_ family would do-“

 _Oh okay_. Well. Looks like Yuri is going to be going to jail a lot earlier in life than everyone thought he would. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. He gets ready to stand, his vision going blood fucking red, his throat ready to flood the room with every fucking expletive in his god damned lexicon-

“ _Oh_ , I’m not so sure about that, Kostya…“  
Everyone turns. Victor smiles back, sitting chipper with a leg folded over his knee.

Sweat breaks out on the back of Yuri’s neck. The fury in him suddenly replaced with panic. He sees Yuuri matching him, gaze _burning_ into the back of Victor’s skull- both of them picturing a million versions of what Victor is about to say and all versions including a signature slippage, chaos undoubtably flooding-

Victor taps his finger under his chin, theatrically pondering, “This approach- it isn’t going to give us the results we’re after. No. Rather it’s a bit like entering ourselves into a contest we have _only_ ever demonstrated as wanting to opt out of.” Victor shakes his head, amused by his own thoughts, “I’m sure everyone in this room would agree, that despite the gossip rags scrambling for scraps, Yuri has only ever represented himself as being devoted to his sport. And he’s done that quite _purely_ \- pointedly keeping any sort of emotional manipulation that’s currently being suggested now at perhaps an all time historic low for an athlete with such a high calibre of fame. I mean it, Kostya, this sudden put-upon familial welcoming that you’re proposing would only end up turning the public off, they’d see right through it. It’s far too removed. You’re asking for a backfire.”

A long pause quiets the room.  
“I assume you’ll be suggesting an alternative, Victor?” The speakerphone asks it with peeved piqued interest. 

Victor smiles, “Of course.” He adjusts his jacket and sinks deeper into the chair, “Really, all this worry you’re hearing sounds like a silly matter of needing to _neutralize_ public opinion, not sway it. Which puts us in a rather lucky spot- seeing as how our neutralizer is already gift wrapped and graciously presented to us without us having to do much of anything.” 

The muscles in Yuri’s back might burst straight out of his skin they’re so fucking tense. His throat clenches, praying, _begging_ , that Victor has a fucking clue what he’s doing…

Victor flips a hand over, “Instead of conjuring up some unnecessary Dickens tale no one asked for- What would everyone say instead, I wonder, seeing two world renowned athletes publicly displaying their years long friendship with an extra _punch_ this season? After all, with one of them announcing their retirement, why _wouldn’t_ they make a show of it this round? We all know, villainizing good sportsmanship is a near impossible feat. Public opinion will have no choice but to plateau or grow- and there will be no patriotic objections regarding passivity seeing as Otabek has always been a sort of honorary son to this country- their success, their strength, their bond, has always been _our_ pride. I’d suggest too, if we pepper all this with some joint appearances— a few tip-offs of them being in the same place at the same time- _inviting_ the world to catch a glimpse of these two bachelors in their prime enjoying their last competitive season together… you know, really making this last joint tour… _count_ -” Victor flashes a knowing smile to their manager, “Oh, it’ll all be gobbled up like candy. Both their net worths will sky rocket. I’d bet my career on it.”

The office stays silent.  
God _dammit_.  
Sometimes Victor does that.  
Victor’s, _Victor-ness_ does _that_. Saves Yuri from having to buy Iosif a brand new fucking office.  
There are times when Yuri can manage to feel thankful for it.  
Like now.  
He can’t deflect it. Not even a little.  
Right now, Yuri is voicelessly thankful.  
Infinitely, reluctantly, guiltily thankful. God _dammit_.

“And you think Altin’s camp would find this more attractive than the narrative that’s being handed to them, Victor?” The speaker asks skeptically.

Victor wrinkles his forehead like the answer is obvious, “My god, yes.” He leans back, taking in the question like he can’t understand it, “No matter what curveball tactics the press has thrown at him over the years Otabek’s support of Yuri as a person and a competitor hasn’t been what anyone would call ‘ _subtle_ ’.” Victor cocks his head to the side, giving a look so condescending into the speakerphone Yuri can’t help but smirk from it, “I’m not sure if you’ve had the opportunity to _meet_ Otabek Altin, Kostya, but easy narratives wouldn’t exactly be _on brand_ for him. I can say, as someone who _has_ known him through the years— Otabek Altin being lured into signing on to a narrative that depicts Yuri Plisetsky as anything but a respected rival and friend… _oh_ -“ Victor shakes his head with a warning, “No. You’ll have to trust me on this, and those in this room who know Otabek can attest too, _that has not and will not be met well_. In fact, I imagine this exact topic has already come up in his team’s meetings and they’d, in fact, be _very grateful_ for the opportunity we’d be presenting to them.”

Yuri manages to keep his face stiff, the blood staying cool in his cheeks. That feeling he’d had before Victor started talking gone- no longer wanting to throw the speakerphone out the fucking window. He even leaves his body for a moment so he can truly appreciate how fucking stupid this conversation is.  
They don’t even know.  
This person who everyone except Yuuri and Victor are worried about weakening Yuri’s career over is the same person who was crying over a phone in an airport bathroom not so long ago desperate to stay with him… with Yuri. _This_ Yuri. 

“Yuri?”

Yuri turns his head, glaring at the speaker.

“He’s listening,” His manager assures the other line. 

“How does that sound, Yuri? What Victor is proposing? If we coordinate with Altin’s team, plan some appearances, agree to a few photo ops during the season- keep in mind now, this is going to require _noticeable_ effort from you at competitions- friendly banter and such. You can’t just-“

“Fine.”  
Pause.  
Yuri keeps the glare but breathes deep into his back. “He’s… a friend. Always has been.”  
He looks out the window, an unreadable twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

The room collectively eases. 

His manager nods, “ _Ha_! Excellent. Quick-thinking there, Victor. Thank heavens there aren’t more of you, or we’d all be out of a job. Kostya, do you think that will satisfy the concern you’ve been hearing?”

“I believe so. Although, we should try to get ahead of _the_ -“ a sigh on the other end, “the junk that will undoubtably be written. If there’s one thing I could see getting in the way it’s some _ridiculous_ fabricated romance taking focus away from the competition. Altin’s camp, I suspect, would not appreciate his last year being smeared in cheap bait articles.“

“Yes. Understood. Yuri, I assume the two of the you are prepared to deflect any sort of fantastical allegations regarding your relationship?“

Yuri relaxes his jaw, “Don’t we always?”

“Nonetheless, we should prepare some pre-planned statements-“

 _Jesus Christ_.  
Victor makes a quick glance at him, flashing a sly ‘got-em’ before looking over his shoulder to give Yuuri a wink and a cocky smile. 

“I’ll make the first call to Altin’s people, Yuri I assume you’re going to go over all this with him too. I don’t know how often the two of you talk-“

 _Pretty fucking often, Iosif_.  
“Yeah. I’ll warn him.”

  
…

  
…

There’s a one hour break before the next meeting. Yuri declined lunch because _obviously_. Why would he have lunch with the same fucking people he’s going to be spending the next three fucking hours with?  
No.  
He snuck off instead, pulling his hood up and hiding behind his sunglasses. Walking the back streets till he ends up by the water.  
It’s his typical spot on days like today. Less crowded. Shaded with little to no scenery to entice passersby to linger.  
He stares out, letting himself fall into the nearby bench, his legs stretched out in front of him.

It hasn’t been impossible.  
Hasn’t been easy either.  
The only real motivation Yuri’s had since Otabek left has been to keep busy. Saying yes to everything. Sleepwalking through all of it while welcoming the setting sun every day. Already having traveled twice and started formal training again for the next season. All his late nights spent on the rink alone, practicing… or exorcising himself… or summoning some long lost pissed off ghost he can’t find- he isn’t sure what he’d call it. Doesn’t matter. Not like anythings worked. 

He didn’t know this until recently but emptiness doesn’t always feel the same.  
Before, the emptiness meant being empty inside- like if someone installed a glass window over his skin they’d see that there was nothing reflected back. All of it gone, taken out and stored in a jar somewhere. Yet despite the meatless shell Yuri had become, his sense of direction only got stronger. And he used it. Strategized and navigated with it. Willingly let it take him deeper and deeper into a kind of corporate manufactured hell. Because it didn’t matter. Because he was empty. Why would it matter?  
But now…  
_Fuck_. There’s _no_ direction. In fact there have been multiple times where Yuri has been in the middle of an event or a training session and he has _no idea why_. He has to remind himself why. Sometimes even remind the reminder why. What was cold and empty inside him before… isn’t. It isn’t. There’s something breathing in him for the first time in a long time. He knows that. He can feel it. But it’s like whatever the fuck is in there pushed _all_ the nothingness out. And so instead of the emptiness being inside him it’s around him, staring back at him, talking to him, thickening the air more and more.  
The map he always had went dark.  
There’s _no_ direction.  
He doesn’t even know where he’s pointed now. Left? Right? The fucking sky? That boat over there? He doesn’t know. Maybe space. Maybe he’s been ejected straight into the middle of fucking space and now all he can do is… wait? Float and wait… 

The sound of a breeze passing over the water soothes his eyelids down—  
He dips his head and pulls his sunglasses off, folding them up and staring at the tops of his knees.

Otabek makes it go away. _Of course_ , Otabek makes it go away. Things aren’t blurred when Otabek is talking to him. All Yuri’s parts are put back together. _And yes_ , he’d gladly take floating in the vacuum of space with an occasional patched through transmission from Otabek over whatever it was he had before- The thing he lost that clouded his eyes in red.  
_Obviously_.  
It’s just… it’s a lot of waiting now. Because who the fuck knows when another ship is going to pass by-

“Admiring the view, Yura?”

Yuri’s head snaps up.  
Victor stares out at the river, hand resting on the back of the bench Yuri is sitting on.  
_I mean_ , he _was_ admiring the view.  
Yuri frowns, and looks away tiredly, “If you’re looking for a thank you card, I’m fresh out.”

Victor smiles, ” _Hm_. No. No need for that. Your acknowledgement is blessing enough.”

Yuri goes to roll his eyes but stops, remembering the panic he felt- the feeling of being backed up into a corner by the bullshit they were spewing…  
A seagull lands on the mast of a boat, soulless eyes reflecting black. Otabek would like this bench. Yuri makes a note to himself to bring him here. It’d be nice to sit here with him.  
Yuri drops his mouth, letting a tension loosen in his chest, “Thanks. For in there.” Making it sound natural isn’t possible but Victor _did_ just save Yuri from going to jail so-  
“You- they listened to you. Thanks.”

Victor considers him, considers the water, then settles on a thought behind his eyes. He brings himself around the bench, sitting down and making himself comfortable, his face irritatingly at peace.  
“No one envies this part, but…” Victor takes a long sigh, “I really hoped that _this_ \- that this would have all been easier for you.”

Yuri darts his eyes over then quickly looks back at the water. “‘ _Easier_ ’?”

Victor nods, “I thought having all of us around you, _guiding you_ would have made it easier. I thought having my career laid out would be a nice blueprint for you... circumvent any needless suffering. That way you could speed past it. Focus on the things that mattered- Your talent,” Victor looks at him, eyes bright like freshly fallen snow, “Your heart.”

Yuri glares, all the thankfulness from before sucked dry, nothing but blindingly hot sand scraping inside his skin, “What so I do all the good things you did and don’t do the bad things and that’s that? Easy fucking peasy?”

“Oh, well… no-” Victor shifts, one arm folding out over the arm of the bench, “Certainly it’s not as simple as that. No, more like you’d be given peeks into the potential outcomes from certain events. Using all our careers as a _guide_ of sorts, looking at the parts that worked, didn’t work, and allowing it to shape yours however you saw fit.” 

Yuri grits his teeth, something in the words that mean literal nothing and Victor’s forever tone ringing like backwards Latin through his ears, “Except it’s not really a _guide_ is it?” He snarls, “Not really. A guide would be a collection of wisdom or something right? Isn’t that what a _guide_ is? A helpful hint _here and there_? But that’s not what this is. It’s never been that and you know it. _Not even fucking close_ ,” Yuri nearly chokes on his own spit, “This is more like... some fucking religious text that if I miss a step on I’ve got the motherland ashamed I was born in it.”

Victor stutters, putting a hand up, “Yuri- I’m having a hard time following you, will you-”

“ **I’m not you!** ”

Victor stares at him, dumbfounded.

Yuri shakes his head, always amazed at the amount of vapid air sitting inside this man’s head. Or maybe it’s the amount he pretends to have. “No. Don’t even fucking try. As if you don’t know. As if you don’t suck all that fucking idolization in like it’s your sole source of life.”

Victor’s look deepens. Like something is slowly dawning on him. “Oh, Yura.” He looks back at the ocean sadly, a hand coming up to his face.

“Fuck off, Nikiforav.”

He doesn’t.  
“You know…” Victor shakes his head, saying it in a hushed tone like maybe it’s not meant to be heard, “For someone so sharp, you can be so _unbelievably dense_ sometimes.” He looks over, “Let’s break this down together, shall we?” He flashes an irritated smile and adjusts in his seat. “You’re telling me, that _all_ those fans, _all_ those scores decided on by the judges, the _cheering_ , the sponsorship deals, the titles you’ve been given, the unparalleled popularity you’ve accomplished outside of the skating world, _all of that_ —“ Victor raises his eyebrows trying to work it out, “is because everyone wishes you were me?”

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy. I said you were dense. I never said you were crazy.” Victor scoffs, leaning back on the bench, still finding some way to be amused by all of it. “Yura, you were breaking my records before I retired. You had a rabid fan base when you were still bringing juice boxes in for your lunch. I’m grotesquely successful, I won’t deny that, but the success I had was very different to the one you have now and the only reason for something like that to have occurred, my dear Yuri Plisetsky, would be that you are in fact, a very different person than the one I am. And people react to it. And like it. Love it, even. So I have to ask you, and I promise I’m not asking it to flatter myself, no matter how much you’ll likely think I am, I’m asking this honestly, as someone who cares for you very much.” Victor tenses, leaning in more, “When _exactly_ are you going to forgive yourself for not being me?”

Victor Nikiforov didn’t actually punch Yuri Plisetsky in the fucking face but also did.  
Phantom blood trickles out Yuri’s nose. His hands ball into fists. He swallows, still clinging tight to the filter he’s been living in for all these years, “Yakov wishes I was you, don’t even _try_ to deny-“

“ _Yakov **chose you**_.” Victor snaps with a bite in his tone Yuri can’t say he’s ever heard before, “He was _**stuck**_ with me. He **_chose_** you.” Victor turns, softly laughing to himself, amused by whatever absurdity he finds in Yuri’s statement, “‘ _Yakov wishes I was you_ ’— I’ll tell you who Yakov wishes _both_ of us were—“

“A bottle of acid reflux medication?”

They laugh, despite themselves. 

“I was going to say your boyfriend. In all my life I’ve never seen that man so enamored. Yakov wishes we were both Otabek Altin and he was training all three of us.”

Yuri’s face betrays him, lips in a tight smile, “Did you hear them laugh that day at the rink? Like they were on a god damned first date?”

“My god,” Victor shakes his head, “Years of my life being a clown for that man and Otabek walks in and makes one joke... about, what even? Did you happen to catch it?”

“No. It was probably about how one time he ate cold soup or something, story-telling is _definitely_ not his thing.“

Victor grins wildly back out at the water, “Well, I couldn’t be happier for them.”

A young couple holding hands walks past and do a double take. Thankfully, despite their sudden whispering, they manage to keep walking, not even pulling out their phones.  
Yuri bites the inside of his lip.  
He can’t believe it but he’s actually contemplating whether to release the colony of hornets that have been populating inside him for all these years.  
Maybe at this point it doesn’t matter. All he’s doing is floating anyway.  
Yuri tests it. Opening his throat and feeling them fly up, buzzing against his lips.  
“It’s just… You’re _uh_ -“ _Say it_. “You’re a lot better at the events and all that shit than I am.” He looks over and looks away just as fast watching the couple continuing to steal not so subtle glances over their shoulders, further and further away. “People- they always like you, you talk to them and I... it’s not the same for me. I can’t do it. No matter what, I can’t. And I know they want me to. But I- I’m not good at it. Not like you.” 

Victor’s face stills, allowing a rare moment of pause before giving a response, “Perhaps.”  
He stays on something, eyes pensive, then takes a sharp breath. “But, I thought you of all people had noticed by now…” His fingers tap absently along the back of the bench, “... I _do like attention_. You’ve never been wrong here, Yura- but I’d question whether you’re framing all this to match some other objective.” He squints unabashedly against the scattered white clouds, his foot swinging from side to side like it’s conducting an invisible orchestra in front of him, “It’s really such a glaring difference between us, isn’t it? What did you say earlier? That it’s my ‘ _sole source of life_ ’?” Victor chuckles, his smile wholly unashamed, “Whereas you- well, you’ve never needed all that, have you? It follows you- certainly, attention follows you. We all watch it follow you. It always will, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to escape that. And when I watch you with them…” A shade of knowing crosses over Victor’s face, “ _Hm_ … it’s so foreign to me. The way you take it where it matters for you and end it there. This might surprise you, Yura, but for someone like me, that’s hard not to envy. To see a room full of people and not need them. I don’t know what that’s like but I have to imagine it’s freeing.”

Yuri looks forward, ears unclogged, brain on mute.  
His body is anatomically incapable of tearing up over something Victor has said and Yuri knows that. But there’s a tension between his eyes that’s never been there before. He isn’t glaring. But he’s not _not_ glaring too.

“Fuck off, Nikiforav.” He says it softly, maybe for the first time without any hint of anger or real meaning behind it.

“You know I won’t,” Victor uncrosses his legs, “but I‘d suggest the moment that comparison invites you in again, you tell it those words. Give it a real _kick_ and then _move on_. You might be surprised what you can do with that quick head of yours when it’s not busy winding itself up all the time. Imagine what it might be like if you let your life _breathe_ , finally.” He nods to his own words, “Especially with him now.” The change in tenderness for the word ‘him’ could only ever refer to Otabek. “I’m sure he’d help.”

Yuri turns back to the water, “He does.” 

Victor makes a pleased hum before standing up.  
“I’ll go. Yuuri warned me not to overstay. We’re seeing each other soon, yes? At the next one? God, they do like to pile these all on in a single day don’t they? I’ve always wondered if they do it to slip in things we’d usually oppose were we not so spent by all the goings back and forth-“

“Mm.” Yuri nods, clenching his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Take care, Yura.”

Victor leaves but his words repeat themselves on a loop.  
_Words like that_ …  
Those were supposed to fix something, right?

  
…

  
…

“Hey-“

“Hey.”

Yuri adjusts the lights in the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at the tablet set up on the island. “Sorry, I gotta eat something. Long fucking day-“ Blindly, he pulls tupperware out from the fridge and turns back to the counter, spreading everything out. 

“Not at all.” Otabek looks on fondly, “I like watching. What are you making?” 

Yuri shrugs, “Whatever works with this shit. No meeting yet?”

“No, there was. You were right. They reached out at the end of the day.”

Yuri smirks, beginning to mince the garlic on the cutting board. “How’d the pitch go?”

“ _Ah_ \- I think it was quoted to me as a ‘ _humanizing opportunity for both sides_.’”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Like you need it.“ 

"Mm." Otabak is holding back a bigger smile, "I wonder what sorts of things they'll send us out for…”

Yuri’s head lightens imagining it. Imagining walking through the world with Otabek next to him. Maybe not _always_ having to wear their country’s track jackets. Even just the taste of it during Oslo was enough to prove how much more palatable everything could be.  
"Yeah." Yuri dumps the chopped vegetables into the skillet, "What do friends do?"

“I have a feeling it’s going to be more clubs."

“ _Mm_ \- You think? I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“I’m not dancing.”

“Uh huh.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll dance,” Yuri nods knowingly, dumping the tofu he marinated last night in with everything else and turning to the stove, "If I ask, you'll dance."  
Otabek smiles back telling him he’s right. Yuri nudges Potya's inquisitive face away from the stove as he mixes it all together. "They asked me to be more talkative to you during competitions."

“Oh. That’ll be shocking."

Yuri laughs, "Fuck off."

“Mm. It’ll be nice though too."

 _Yeah_.  
Yuri glances over his shoulder, “Was anyone on your team like- I don’t know… worried about it at all?"

"Hm?"

"Like... you... being friends with me? Publicly? Well… _more_ publicly?” Yuri swallows, scrapping the sides of the pan and folding everything on top of itself.

“No. Everyone seemed rather excited by it.”

Yuri turns on that, “Hah?”

“It is you, Yuri." Otabek juts a chin to the screen, “I would imagine most people would be elated at the prospect of Yuri Plisetsky's team calling them to set up a highly publicized friendship.”

“Yeah well…” Yuri goes back to cooking, “They don't know me."

"I know you,” Otabek counters warmly, “and I liked hearing it.” 

Yuri's bites behind his lip, grinning into the darkening ingredients sizzling back at him, “So lame, Otabek. Don’t forget we’re gonna have to work out our statements for when the rumors start up again.” He turns down the stove, “You already know what you’re gonna say?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t even a millisecond of a pause before Otabek answered. 

Yuri laughs, “Yup, go.”

“Yuri Plisetsky is my _best_ friend.”

“ _Oh my god_.” Yuri shuts his eyes, laughing louder. “No.”

“We are _best_ friends.”

“No!”

“With many common interests.”

“Nooo!”

“And tastes.”

“ _Everyone_ will know we’re fucking if you say that.” Yuri finishes and dials the stove off, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard above him and dumping the contents in. He swipes a pair of chopsticks out of the drawer, swiveling around and grabbing the tablet to take with him to the living room.  
“You gotta make it less formal. So it sounds like we have nothing to hide, you know?” He sits down on the couch, propping the screen up on the coffee table and relaxing back into the cushions to eat. Baba Yaga follows, jumping up to sit in her usual spot next to the tablet showing Otabek’s face. Not understanding technology but letting it inform where she should be whenever Otabek’s voice came through. 

Yuri chews, cocking his head to the side, watching Otabek get distracted by something on his computer. “Something bad?”

Otabek shakes his head, “No. Interview tomorrow. They sent over the questions.” He rubs a hand over the back of neck, continuing to read.

“Any of them about me?”

Otabek’s mouth quirks up, still staring off to the side at his computer, “Always.”

Yuri grins cause he already knew that. “What’s the question?”

Otabek turns even more towards his computer screen, giving a perfect view of his profile, causing Yuri’s chewing to slow, his mouth momentarily forgetting he’s in the middle of eating. 

“’ _Are the two of you as competitive with each other off rink as you are in the rink?_ ’”

Yuri points his chopstick at the camera, “Tell them yes. Tell them we’re so competitive off rink we’ve started fucking each other.”

“Will do.”

“What else?”

“ _Ah_ \- They ask if I ever get styling tips from you.”

“Say yes, that my styling tip for you is to always take off whatever shit you’re wearing and throw it on the floor so we can do each other on top of it.”

Otabek smiles, “Alright. I’ll let them know that too.”

“Those are stupid questions,” Yuri mumbles under his chewing. 

“Mm. I suppose you never get asked if I have styling tips for you.”

Yuri shrugs, hitting the button on the remote for the tv to turn on for background noise. “No. But they should. You wear cool shit.” He swallows, taking in Otabek’s workspace for the hundredth time, the strange out-dated looking instruments and multiple noise boxes plugged in all around him, the low light with a slight purple hue. Yuri wants it here. All of it. _Now_.  
“How’d family dinner go?” 

Otabek groans, “Awful. I don’t think I can go over there anymore.”

“What are they still trying to figure out who you’re dating?”

“Yes.” Otabek’s energy drains from him.

“Well, you can tell them the answers to those questions too.”

“I _really_ can’t.”

Yuri grins, “So you’re saying a magazine publication would be more discreet than telling your family?”

“You have no idea, yes. Imagine a small village of Victor Nikiforav’s. Colonies in space would know by lunch.”

Yuri blushes, biting behind his lip while watching Otabek wipe a hand down his face exhausted. “It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have told them you were seeing someone.”

“If I hadn’t told them they’d still be trying to set me up.”

Yuri shrugs, “So you go on some dates, no biggie.”

“Mm, and you’d have no objection to that?” Otabek’s brow arches skeptically. 

Yuri bites his tongue, trying to keep his face from crumbling. He doesn’t meet Otabek’s gaze. Just shrugs again and makes a sound that tries to pass as not caring. 

“This might be the first year I’ve had photographers following me during the off-season. You’re saying you’d have had no problem seeing those photos printed? A shot of me... under low light... across the table from someone-”

“I don’t know, would you have been fine _doing that_?” Yuri bites back, brow arched matching Otabek’s. 

“Mm.” Otabek stills then rests his head in his hand, “No. I wouldn’t. Not at all. I miss you.”

A sting in his chest. Yuri nods over it. “Miss you.” His leg starts bouncing. Quickly he finishes the last of his dinner. “Wish all that stuff you got around you was here. With you in it.”

“Careful. You say that now...”

Yuri leans forward, placing his empty bowl down on the coffee table, “They’re installing a door next week.” He folds a leg under him and brings the other up to his chest. 

“A door? Yuri, no-“

“Yes.” Yuri firmly states, “Potya eats wires like they’re made of crack and Baba gets too excited, she’ll end up strangling herself or lighting herself on fire. Probably both.”

“They were fine when I was there.”

“That’s cause you never left.”

Otabek looks heartbroken, like he just got told he can never hang out with his two best friends again. 

Yuri softens, “You can keep it open when you’re in there but you’ll have to close it when you’re not. I’m serious-” he motions to him. “If you don’t care about your shit being ruined at least do it for Baba Yaga living another day.”

“But they love looking out that window.”

“ _Ooooh_ , do they?” Yuri rolls his eyes, “Wow, such a shame this apartment has so little window space for a small ass cat to stare out of.” They both break out into smile and Yuri shakes his head. “They’re gonna be fine. _Really_.”  
It’s all so fucking different if it’s Otabek in front of him, _Oh_ -  
“Hey! What did you say to Yakov that day at the rink?”

Otabek blinks confused. 

“Victor and I talked after he saved my ass in that meeting earlier and... _uh_ , yeah, whatever, _that_ \- we can talk about that later but we were bitching about the time you made Yakov laugh really hard. What did you say to him?”

“You two were complaining about this?”

“Yeah. Of course. You made him laugh. What did you say to him?”

Otabek thinks on it then huffs out a laugh, “He brought up hot pot, I guess there’s a place not far from the rink, I mentioned every time I’ve had hot pot it gives me diarrhea for like a week.”

Yuri gapes at him.“You made Yakov laugh like that by making a poop joke?”

Otabek shrugs, “Wasn’t even a joke.” 

“Otabek-” Yuri rubs at his eyes, smiling. “ _Ugh_.”   
He soaks it in, these last bits of clarity for the day before it’s all back to being indiscernible. He nods to the screen, “Will you teach me what you do with that box that has all the cool switches on it?- you haven’t shown me that one yet.”

  
…

**=======**

  
…

Nights pass.  
Yuri always leaves around the same time. He drives, parking in the same spot. If he’s on a trip, he calls a car service that isn’t the one provided to him. Or if the hotel he’s staying at is close enough, he’ll just walk.  
Bag slung over his shoulder.  
Familiar buildings. Unfamiliar buildings. Only the setting and the people being swapped, never him. He walks the same. Looks the same. Same hood up. Quiet and not wanting to be bothered. 

Back home in St. Petersburg, when he walks the couple blocks from his car to the rink, he passes a line of people on the other side of the street. He peers at them under his hood, the expensive fabrics of their clothes reflecting against the city lights, always posed, waiting to be let into the doors of a pulsing building that promises a night they’ll barely remember but never regret.  
When his own blurred nights were spent in that same building not once did he ever look at them. Back then all he’d do is walk ahead, not connected to anything, programmatically finding himself there, bypassing the line, not even caring to bring his eyes up as he stepped up to the bouncer, giving a familiar nod and going in.  
Nights like these…  
That’s what he used to do.  
Dropping his shit off after practice. Something in the day repeating itself in his mind and pushing him out his apartment and into a place he could forget. His ears flooded by a deafening bass instead of all the voices telling him what he should do and be. His throat burning closed from the alcohol trickling down it instead of opening itself wide, readying itself for a scream that would never come out. His body being touched like it’s real, like it’s physically there instead of a faraway ideal being controlled by shadowed outlines sitting behind a control deck. His mouth being pressed by another instead of scowling or saying something it shouldn’t.  
That’s what it used to be like.  
It used to smell like sweat. Used to be _loud_. And the more the night went on the heavier everything got. 

Now, his nights are spent walking past it, not a drop of booze in him, his face masked by a silent motivation that won’t leave him alone.  
It’s quiet now.  
Doesn’t smell like anything.  
Just him and a sinking dread.  
It’s fine. He’d gladly take it over all those nights before.

The only ones who know are Otabek and Yuri’s assistant. They don’t know why he does it but they know he practices late. He’d rather no one knew but Otabek always asks him what he’s planning on doing for the rest of every night and Yuri couldn’t stand the thought of lying to him. His assistant needed to know because Yuri needed someone to secretly organize a rink for him when he’s traveling.  
There’s no reason for anyone else to find out. It would just lead to questions and questions need answers. And Yuri doesn’t have any. The last thing he needs is more suspicion floating around him.

He could lie to them.  
Tell them he’s training, but…  
They’ll ask what he’s working on and he’ll say what? Something he can’t show them because it doesn’t exist?

He could tell them he’s working on the things they went over earlier in the day _but_ …  
That means he’ll have to work on the things from earlier in the day to prove he has.  
And he fucking hates training.

If he tells the truth he’ll sound insane. How does he tell them he lost something no one ever saw? That no one can even see he lost now? Then what? What does he say when they press him for more details? When they connect the dots and match his lower podium placement with the time he began training alone? What does he do then? Only Yakov, Yuuri, and Victor know about Otabek but the pressures of his managers, his advisors, all wanting answers would undoubtably cause someone to crack. And then they’ll find out. All of them. Yuri knows what comes after that. He’s done this too long not to hear their voices in his head. When the timeline gets filled in with Otabek’s name they’ll connect the dots- and manically circle the one thing that keeps Yuri warm at night, blaming it for his lower ranking. And it’ll be a fight. He knows it will.  
It’s a fight they won’t win. But it’s still a fight he doesn’t feel like having.  
So he keeps it quiet.

As much as he can anyway. 

Sometimes the custodian sees him but all they do is nod or share a friendly conversation, usually to do with coming from Podmoskovye- sometimes even the night guard joins them- all three of them half complaining about the frustrations of the countryside, half nostalgic for it.  
Yuri doesn’t mind them. They don’t linger or give a shit about figure skating enough to care about what he works on. Sometimes it’s even nice. All three of them leaning back and using voices that aren’t following any kind of fake-ass script.  
But besides those brief moments of contact…  
He spends the rest of his nights alone.  
Repeating- going back and repeating. Trying again-

“FUCK!”  
Yuri kicks the rink wall and slides down to the ice, a stabbing cold seeping into the fabric of his clothes as he pants into his palms. The nightlife across the street bleeds through the fogged windows. Sometimes the outlines of stumbling bodies pass by, wholly unaware of the false idol folding in on himself behind the glass.  
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck **FUCK**!-“ He shouts it into the dark empty room. 

_What EVEN is it?!_  
It’s like he doesn’t even fucking care. Now, when he goes through any of his old programs it’s like he doesn’t care. He’ll try to muster some semblance of fucking caring and he can’t. Is it care? He never considered it caring before. It was just…  
_Red.  
Need._  
A fucking…  
_Fire_.  
Fire but without the smoke.  
Red burning fire that belonged to him. Guided him. Despite the bullshit and the posing and the bending and the molding, the fire kept him there- kept him alive in it. They could dress him in anything. Tilt his face up as angelically as they wanted but that fire was his and it fucking worked. It put him in first. Broke Victor’s records. Kept his country proud. The one part of him that worked. The one part of him that existed. The one demonic part of him that made people shut the fuck up and watch.  
Does he want to win? Of course he wants to fucking win but-  
_No_. That’s not it.  
_WHAT_ the fuck is it  
And _WHERE_ the fuck is it  
He’s run it all through his mind so many times at this point.  
Does he not want to beat Otabek? No. Of course he wants to beat Otabek. He always wants to beat Otabek. That’s the fucking point. That’s always been the fucking point. That’s what they do. He loves beating Otabek. Otabek loves beating him. They get fucking hard watching each other outperform the other. He gets hard thinking about it now. _Of course_ he wants to beat Otabek. That’s not it. SO WHAT _IS IT?_  
Before _this_ it was— he just knew. He’d take that first step on the ice and… he knew… it was a fact, everything he did was certain, clear… the closest to peace he’s ever had besides coming or Otabek soothing him to sleep.  
Is it cause he lost? Is that it?  
Does that mean it’s just doubt? If it’s doubt then why does he still know he’s better? That he’s supposed to win? That he can win. It can’t be doubt. It’s not doubt. He’s not afraid of-  
Losing.  
He’s not.  
Especially not to him.  
_Especially_ -  
There. There’s something here. Something hits different when he goes down this route. And whatever it is tells him to turn back because he doesn’t know where the fuck he’s going or what the fuck he’s doing. A thick wall sprouts up from the ground keeping him from going forward. He’s not afraid of losing… he doesn’t doubt his ability to win… he just doesn’t…  
WHAT! Doesn’t _what_?!

He slices his blade into the ice, the ground numbing the backs of his legs and ass. He picks himself up and saunters to the gate, stepping out and snatching up his phone.  
Otabek’s name in his notifications managing to slow his heart rate like a fucking tranquilizer in his neck-

| Falling asleep, envying the walls that get to watch you practice  
| The benches too  
| The whole room really  
| It’s not fair  
| I love you, I’ll call in the morning

Yuri tightens his mouth and brings the phone up, pressing his head against the edge of the screen, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_I love you_.

Looking back over his shoulder he stares at the rink. Traces of his frustration scarring the once smooth surface. 

A thought Yuri’s had before taps inside his head.  
He agrees with it, pulling out his earbuds and navigating to the music he has saved on his phone.  
He selects the track not linked to any album or streaming service, only a title and timestamp.  
A sense of calm sweeps over, hearing the notes rising in the space between his ears, the same ones that drove him to the dance studio the first time he heard them- They grow. And his body straightens, being filled by the sound.  
He wants to move. He sees himself moving. His body and his mind clasping together ready to morph themselves to the notes coaxing him.  
_This_ \- this _has_ to be it…  
Yuri takes the couple steps to the rink entrance. Eyes forward and down.  
_Yes_ …

But just like all the other times, he stops moving. His hands grip into the edges of the rink entrance, knuckles gone white.  
Otabek’s music stays playing, the music clenching and vulnerable.  
_Every_fucking_time_ this is what happens.  
This. Exactly this.  
Yuri can’t do it. For some reason, he can’t take another step. No matter how much sense it would make. He can’t take a single step onto the ice with the music Otabek made.  
He physically fucking can’t- it’s like he’s doubling down, hugging the track to his chest to keep it safe- keeping it warm from a storm that’s brewing past the tip of his blade. He can’t take it with him. Not out there. A solid non-slick surface is fine- it’s safe there. But the white glinting back isn’t.

Yuri stares out.  
The ice stares back.  
_Shit_  
He succumbs. Sinking down to the rubber mat, legs stretching themselves in front of him while he sits uncomfortably against one half of the rink entrance, the sharp edge digging into his back.  
The track continues to play, filling him with everything it did the first time he heard it. 

He leans his head back, letting it play out, his blades still on, sitting on the floor, the rink to the left of him with the city outside beyond the glass. The sounds of Otabek loving him, being heartbroken by him, and missing him, all of it safe, inside of him, staying warm. 

It’s okay.  
It’s fine.  
He’ll figure it out.

  
…

**=======**

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! :)  
> First time fic writer, excuse the nerves.  
> It feels like I’m exorcising a demon getting this all out  
> And it’s a Godzilla of demon, I have no idea who will read this, if anyone, but there are many many more chapters to come  
> Thanks for reading! Even if it’s just a bit of it!
> 
> UPDATE 9/19/20:  
> Uh, when I say I’m surprised anyone is reading this, I really do mean it.  
> Thank you.  
> I keep re-reading the comments and wanting to print them out and tape them to my screen so I don’t feel so nervous posting  
> I like all of you and I hope I can keep writing stuff you’ll want to keep reading  
> : )
> 
> UPDATE 9/27/20:  
> The Hits number keeps turning into a number that’s bigger than the number it was before and I understand that’s what a hit counter is but it also _amazes_ me  
> Thank you for continuing to read or reading for the first time or accidentally clicking here and being like ‘oops, that’s not the one i wanted, byeee’  
> Also, I would like to hug each and every comment, thank you
> 
> UPDATE 10/5/20:  
> Thank you.  
> I don’t know what else to say, I’m just really happy that anyone is reading this.
> 
> UPDATE 10/13/20:  
> Ugh. I’m sure this is annoying at this point but thank you again for reading. I’m still not convinced it’s not just my cat posing as views/comments/kudos trying to make me feel better but honestly, that’d be okay too.  
> I wanted this chapter done over the weekend but I couldn’t stop tweaking it. Thank you and I hope everyone had a great start to their week!
> 
> UPDATE 10/17/20:  
> I love you and you’re perfect.  
> Thanks for reading.  
> I’m **so** excited to share the chapters coming up and I can’t believe I just wrote ‘share’ there. BECAUSE THERE ARE REAL LIFE PEOPLE READING THIS holy bananas! Thank you!
> 
> UPDATE 10/25/20:  
> Thank you. I’m so happy to have gotten to this part and have people still reading. I’ve been looking forward to sharing part 4 for awhile. I hope you like it too!
> 
> UPDATE 11/1/20:  
> Still recovering from the relief of people reading and commenting + new kudos after posting ‘The Rain’ chapter. Thank you so much. I cannot overstate how much those things heal all doubt I’ll have before/after posting. Happy November! Let’s hope for a good month together!  
> Also I have no idea how this got to 100,000+ words
> 
> UPDATE 11/8/20:  
> I really don’t know how this got above 100,000 words. And there’s still more  
> I’m sorry and thank you  
> Like, thank you thank you
> 
> UPDATE 11/29/20:  
> Oh no! I never put an update in last week for ‘Ordinary Things’ and ‘Thawing’. Probably cause I was freaking out about them. I went through a whole damn box of tissues writing ‘Thawing’. Thank you for waiting a week for them! I hope you liked them!  
> Coming up to the last of Part IV :(. ‘Yura’ chapter has existed since I started writing this fic. It was always the chapter in my head where I was like “man oh man, if i can somehow get all the way to ‘Yura’ with actual readers... that would be _amazing_ ”  
> Thank you for reading. Thank you for the kudos and comments and bookmarks- they fuel so much.
> 
> UPDATE 12/13/20:  
> End of Part 4... I’m a bit in mourning at having wrapped it up. I hope you liked it! I really liked writing it.  
> Onto Part 5...  
> I’m being a lot of cautious with part 5 (... it’s my favorite). While it’s already been written, the edits are not and I have a tendency to edit like I haven’t written anything :(. I’ll be posting it as a whole so the next update will take longer (!but be bigger!).  
> Thank you to everyone reading! The comments and kudos and bookmarks continue to mean way more than probably intended.
> 
> Update 2/15/21:  
> Sooooooooooooon (so so soon) + here's the first as a thank you for being patient
> 
> [my (empty) tumblr](https://wildwildflora.tumblr.com/)


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